A Jaded Family
by GiuliaZe
Summary: She wasn't a hero or a savior, not anymore. If she had owed something to the world, she more than paid it back with blood and tears… so why did they take Teddy away from her? And why was everyone so interested in her grandfather?
1. Chapter 1

**A Jaded Family**

 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling while Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to the genius of Akira Amano. I make no claim to ownership on either of them.

 **A/N:** This is the acceptance of **Lighted Candle's** **'Reborn's Grandson challenge'**. This amazing author should be congratulated on the idea, and my thanks for letting me play with it. With Lighted Candle's permission Harry has been genderbended.

 **Requirements of the challenge:**

Harry is Reborn's grandson **\- Accepted**

Harry is a sky, even if his flames are an injured mess or inactive **\- Accepted**

 **Optional:** Harry harmonizes with Shamal **– Accepted**

 **Summary:** She wasn't a hero or a saviour, not anymore. If she had owed something to the world, she more than paid it back with blood and tears… so why did they take Teddy away from her? And why everyone was so interested in her grandfather?!

 **A/N:** This chapter has also been edited with the help of **Zaidee Lighthart** and has been further edited and hopefully improved.

 **Note from Z:** While I have tried to help fix Google's weird translations from Italian to English -as well as grammar and the like if I saw it- my own readers will already know that I struggle with this myself and often miss things, so don't expect it to be perfect. There will be what I hope is only small mistakes. On other hand, I hope you enjoy GiuliaZe's story. I know I am. Plus, it's been fun working with the other writer of the same Challenge. XD

 **oOo**

In which Harriet Potter is scary. No one should touch what she claims as hers and won't be a stupid thing as politic or conscience to stop her from get it back.

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 1**

 **28** **th** **May 1998 – British Ministry of Magic**

Wizards' aging was bloody weird. And creepy.

It was a fact.

Depending on the person's magical ability, middle-aged people could easily have twice as many years and no one would realize it. Biologically speaking, all came down to one thing, their magical core; once it stabilized, their aging started to crawl like a snail, turning decades in a mere handful of years. Ergo the more powerful the wizard was, the slower he aged and their vitality greatly improved.

However, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the newly appointed 'State of Emergency Minister', was feeling like his fifty-three years of age suddenly doubled instead of halved. And the one to blame was the barely of age slip of a girl that was hissing and ranting on the other side of his office desk.

"What do you mean you can't?!"

The Minister rubbed slowly his pounding temples and dropped heavily against the back of his overly comfortable chair, trying to stave off a massive headache that was brewing under his eyelids. Between the pressure of the witch's boiling magic and the gaudy colors of the exotic furniture that he inhered from previous mandates -and he didn't have yet the time to incinerate- he felt like his brain was slowly melting out of his ears.

He applied more pressure, breathing deeply. Nothing worked.

He took one look at the blazing green eyes of the furious witch in front of him and repressed the involuntary shudder that ran down his back. He never feared her, Harriet was usually a reserved and sweet girl, yet the pure wrath that she projected reminded him why, exactly, the Girl-Who-Lived became the Woman-Who-Conquered. He mentally swore. He knew, he just knew, one day he would regret the moment he accepted the post of Minister, still– damn! He never thought it would happen before the second week of his mandate was over.

"Potter, as I have already explained to you," he spelled it out slowly, slowly and carefully. "I don't have any free personnel. The few Aurors I do have are already pulling double shifts. There was a reason I asked you and the DA members to hunt down the remnants of Riddle's Death Eaters. We have to give the people a resemblance of order!"

He winced as his brain computed the last part of his speech, admitting that it was very Fudge-like and clearly inappropriate despite its veracity. As expected, her appearance became even more troublingly. Her expression closed off and her chapped lips thinned, resembling more a battered doll than a human being, as her magic sparkled menacingly around her. Her knuckles cracked as they slowly turning white with the pressure of her rage. "So… you are not going to help me?"

Despite her best intentions, the light trembling of her voice was unmistakable to the finely tuned ears of the ex-Auror and his dark eyes couldn't help but soften slightly. "Give me a couple of weeks Harry…" He muttered in desolation, putting both hand flat on the numerous stacks of files scattered all over the table. "When things are less chaotic, you can take a team for your search. But right now, I can't let you run around as you please. More so, with that price still hanging over your head."

"Kingsley," she stressed his name, ignoring his poorly masked effort of showing her his, admittedly, numerous duties as head of government. "Teddy might not have a couple of weeks!" She growled out, emphasizing each word. Her little godson didn't have time! She knew the statistics, she had worked with the official Aurors to know them: kidnapped children had to be found in 24 hours, 48 at most, before they were considered lost forever. And she was losing precious time! Who cared for her still-standing Wanted status in the Muggle world?! It wouldn't be the first time she traveled around Britain while being hunted like an animal. What was important was finding Teddy and she told him so. Vehemently.

"Think Potter! Teddy is Remus and Tonks' son! Do you really think I don't want to find him too?!" He snarled, slamming his hands against the mahogany desk, frustration finally emerging from the wizard too. "With the mess Voldemort left behind, the communications with the Muggle world are at zero! And Merlin only knows when the ICW will give us the authorization to produce international passports again! He was way too young to interest that kind of kidnappers and for all we know, Teddy could already be out of the country!"

At the implied notion that the child could already be beyond her reach, her countenance crumbled, shoulders hunched with hopelessness and lids lowered on pain-filled eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek and slashed soundlessly on the marble floor.

Seeing Harry's expression Kingsley could only sigh as he pressed his face into his hands in frustration, reeling in his emotions. He had been an Auror for most of his life, he had seen and experienced that feeling of helplessness enough on his life that he couldn't fault the Potter. He knew how important the Metamorphmagus was for the girl; he was easily the only thing that could make her get up in the morning instead of waste away in depression in a dark corner of Grimmauld Place. Slowly he stood up and moved in front of Harry, gently taking her hands into his, he squeezed them once in encouragement. "The only thing we can do is to catch the Death Eaters still at large and hope the ICW stops our forced isolation." He whispered softly.

His only response was a suppressed sob.

For the first time since she entered his office, Kingsley took a good, thorough look at the one known as the Defeater of Voldemort and he didn't like what he saw. It had only been three weeks since the Final Battle and Harry - like many others - still displayed marks from the fight. Scratches marred her slim face and a still unsealed cut mark followed her hairline, proving that the crusade she and her Defence Association undertook against Riddle's remaining Death Eaters wasn't ended yet.

'She is exhausted…' He thought dejected, focusing on the bruising purple bags under her normally bright eyes. They now seemed to have become dull in color, allowing the world to know that nightmares still plagued her dreams and wouldn't stop anytime soon. Taking a hold of her thin elbows, he slowly spun her on the spot and noticed how her already slim body had yet again lost weight. In his mind, he cursed Dumbledore, Snape, himself and the rest of the Wizarding Britain for forcing a child to bear the weight of their world's survival on her minute shoulders.

"Take some time for yourself, Harriet," he told her as his usual gruff tone softened further. "Knowing you, you haven't slept in months."

She shrugged, almost lost in thought but still accepted his help in putting on her blue cloak and let him show her to the door. Holding the handle, she stiffly turned and trained her bright green eyes in the man's brown ones. Under the amber lights of the chandelier, they almost glowed a captivating orange. "I'm not a patient girl, Kingsley. Don't take your sweet time," she stated calmly, her resolve cemented.

The Minister of Magic took a breath and, with the most reassuring smile he could manage, said, "As soon as I get something from the ICW, I'll let you know." Harry stared at him for few seconds, an indecipherable look in her eyes, then she nodded and exited the Minister's office.

Shacklebolt leaned against the door, the gold inlay on the wood scratched against his forehead. He sighed heavily, feeling that the fine hair on the back of his head had yet to get down. Few people could be as intimidating as Harriet Lily Potter and right now, she was pissed. He just hoped they would survive her ire.

 **oOo**

Harry's arrival through the chimney of Grimmauld Place was performed with her usual floo-induced grace. Meaning none. She automatically accepted Kreacher's hand, as she allowed the old house elf to help pull her up. Absent-mindedly cleaning the soot from her robes, she handed him with her cloak, completely disregarding his usual grumble against the Muggle jeans and tee-shirt she wore underneath.

"Thank you, Kreacher," she said lightly, ignoring the stink eye he sent her. "Andromeda?" she asked.

The servant pointed to the stairs, his eyes dark and dejected, "Mistress 'Dromeda be in Little Master's room. Mistress refuses to come out since Mistress Harry left."

Biting her lower lip, Harry closed her eyes in thought as she murmured, "Maybe it's better if I check on her…"

Going up to the second floor of the gloomy house, Harry glanced at the many doors still adorned with the names of their previous owners. Some, like Walburga Black's, had been sealed, while others, like Sirius's bedroom, had been redecorated according to the taste of their new user. And as much as she adored her godfather's style, she couldn't sleep with the provocative posters of Muggle girls in bikini surrounding her bed.

She entered Regulus Black's old room -now Edward Lupin's nursery- briefly overlooking the room, before she turned to Andromeda. The woman was slowly swaying back and forth in the rocking chair by the now empty cradle. The last year had been one heartbreak after another for the disowned Pureblood. Her beautiful pale face was now marred by a light web of lines and her dark brown hair was sprinkled with silver. It was a sad fact that the stress of the war, especially her husband and daughter's deaths, had aged her past her years. Carefully, Harry knocked on the doorway, drawing the attention of the other witch on her.

"I tried every single spell I could think of… Even the family's old rituals I had once sworn to myself that I would never use. The result is always the same," Andromeda said soulfully, her tearful silver eyes glued stubbornly at the baby's cradle. As if Teddy would be back sleeping safely in it through sheer willpower.

Harry nodded, "I know. It's like something is cloaking him," she spoke barely above a whisper, trying to restrain her own emotions.

Andromeda sighed and finally turned completely towards the teenager. Harry cringed slightly before she could stop herself and had to repress the urge to not stare. Whoever had kidnapped Teddy, had done a real number on Andromeda's right side. A vicious burn marked her pale skin, starting from her cheekbone and continuing down the side of her neck and her arm, all the way to the tip of her fingers. They had been brutal, but the woman had not gone down without a fight, and a prisoner.

Even now, three hours after the attack, covered by a thick layer of bandages and doused by the strongest pain-relieving potions, she was trying everything to find her grandson. Harry had never respected the woman more. She never wanted to be the one to give Andromeda bad news, not after Remus and Tonks. Turning her eyes to the soft yellow of the nursery walls, she stared, as if she were trying to burn a hole through the wallpaper and for it to reveal the right words to say. In the end, she sighed and ran a hand through her short ebony hair in frustration knowing she was stalling. "I just went to Shacklebolt," she said, sarcasm dripping from her every following word. "… He said there is nothing he can do."

Andromeda's eyes jumped to her, leaving the toy wolf she had on her lap to fall on the carpeted floor. "What?!" She hissed, uninjured hand curling frantically in her hospital gown. "Have you told him–"

Harry stopped her tirade, shaking her head and curling on the floor at the woman's feet. She delicately uncurled the wounded grandmother's hand, rubbing the marks that her nails had left on the palm. "He didn't even let me finish talking. When he heard the word 'Auror', he shut me up and sent me on my way…"

Andromeda thinned her lips, scowling fiercely at an imaginary Minister of Magic. As it came, her ferocity retracted as self-deprecation bled its way in her stormy grey irises. "I just can't believe a couple of Muggles were able to take my grandson from under my nose like that!"

Gently Harry put her hand on Andromeda's good arm, "It's not your fault Andy and I can assure you they weren't normal Muggles. Shooting blue flames from their hands is anything but normal."

"I shouldn't have taken Teddy to the park…" Andromeda whispered, trying to hold back a sob and failing horribly.

Biting her lips, Harry closed her eyes and felt the tears running down her hurting cheeks. No one could have imagined it. After Voldemort's fall, the Muggle world should have been safe… Or safer than the Wizardry world. That was the reason Harry and Andromeda had decided to live in Grimmauld Place, even if it wasn't exactly what one would call habitable.

It had strong wards and was located in Muggle London. No annoying paparazzi who wanted a scoop on the Woman-who-Conquered, no crazy fans who camped outside her door and no Death Eaters' attacks! It was supposed to be safe… That's why she never had a problem with Andromeda taking Teddy to the park before. The almost two months old boy did not need to be cooped up in the gloomy house all the time. And the park was on the other side of the street for Merlin's sake!

Who could have imagined that Teddy would have used his Metamorphmagus talent? Especially in the exact moment in which he would knock off his hat? The very same moment in which Andromeda had glanced away to pack up his baby bag?

Certainly not Harry.

Who could have imagined that the Muggles who saw Teddy's colorful miracle, would have some strange fire abilities and would trounce Andromeda before she could even Obliviate them?

Not Harry!

What she certainly could imagine was what the Muggles would do to her sweet, cute godson to discover the full potential of his skills, and it was not good!

'Merlin, why this is happening?!' Harry couldn't help but ask herself. Teddy was Andromeda's grandson and Harry's godson. That made them part family now.

To them, it had no importance if she was the next messiah or the girl next door. Teddy was just too young and Andromeda... Andromeda had been hurt well before meeting Harry. By being disowned by her family and by being rejected by her pureblood friends. Let's not talk about living under the Light families' eternal suspicion that she was more of a Black, than by her birth alone. Her love for Ted Tonks did not give her an easy life. Andromeda wanted to be free from everything and Harry more than liked her idea.

The sad part was that the only person who could truly relate to her was a woman more than twice her age. It was no secret that Harry didn't have a lot of friends beyond her numerous acquaintances. During her Hogwarts years, too many times the students turned their back on her and accused her with no evidence. Even her own best friends had doubted her more than once and often Harriet Potter had been more important than just Harry.

Thinking about Ron and Hermione, Harry sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The couple had left for Australia a week after the last of the funerals for the victims in the Battle of Hogwarts, searching for Hermione's parents. The fact that they hadn't asked Harry to go with them, even if she was still the only Wanted one of the trio, said a lot about the two. The fact that it was almost a month from the last time she had heard from the Weasley family said even more.

She knew they didn't fault her for Fred's death, the Weasley family fought against the Dark Lord well before her birth. Still, they weren't ready to see her... And if she wanted to be honest with herself, she wasn't ready to see them either.

The noise of Kreacher popping into the room cut off her train of thought, and unconsciously had her drawing her wand, war habits still plaguing her every instinct. Inclining her head in a question, the girl was taken aback by the house elf enthusiasm. Despite the initial reservation, Kreacher learned to love Teddy as much as Regulus and took great pride in raise a child once more. The magical creature jumped up and down in anticipation, bat-like ears trembling in excitement while a maniac smile curled its decrepit face as he shrieked breathlessly, "Mistresses! Filthy Muggle stopped creating blue fire!"

It took a second for them to compute what he said. In the following moment, the two women's eyes met, green and silver clashing and shimmering with the same desperation. The same fear. The same resolve.

Harry jumped up on her feet, adrenaline shooting in her system and heightening her perceptions as her heart pumped furiously in her chest. Andromeda seized her arm in a punishing grip, leaving what she was sure would be another set of bruises. She almost didn't feel it, her entire concentration focused on the last disowned Black.

"Discover where Teddy is," the Pureblood ordered, gritting her teeth and shaking Harry's arm while her whole injured body trembled with anticipation. Giving one last glance at the toy on the floor, the teen just nodded her head and hurried down into the basement, wand clutched in her hand. Kreacher followed faithfully behind her.

She would have rather have left the job to a trained Auror. But if she had learned something in all those years, it was to be resourceful. She was sure she would feel like a monster in the end. But she had no choice... This was her family and if she had to stain her soul to keep it safe–

So be it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Jaded Family**

 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling while Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to the genius of Akira Amano. I make no claim to ownership on either of them.

 **Summary:** She wasn't a hero or a saviour, not anymore. If she had owed something to the world, she more than paid it back with blood and tears… so why did they take Teddy away from her? And why everyone was so interested in her grandfather?!

 **A/N:** This chapter has also been edited with the help of **Zaidee Lighthart.**

 **oOo**

In which the Black House and its inhabitants are creepy, Ted Tonks was a saint and Andromeda should never be allowed to name a child.

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 2**

For years House Black's basement had been the floor where Harry had been more than happy to never put her foot on. Once, a big part of it had been the family potioners' personal lab but Kreacher admitted that after Regulus' death, Walburga converted it all in prisons for the enemies of the House. Just thinking about it, it made her flesh crawl. A lot.

Putting a hand against the stone wall, she shut her eyes and focused herself on the freezing temperature, trying not to be sick. In the last year, she had done a lot of things she wasn't proud of -she had lied, stolen, killed and she even used the Imperious Curse. But that was war and it was necessary.

Even more things had been done to her. A lot of them before the Second Blood Conflict had even started. She had been treated as a slave and had been humiliated, she had been lied and manipulated, she had been slighted and persecuted, she had been mind raped and possessed, she had been tortured and killed. Twice.

But she had never interrogated another living being. She knew it was highly probable it would turn out a bloody affair. Their prisoner was dangerous, in military training-dangerous. He wouldn't give her the information she needed and would fight her tooth and nail for every inch she would get.

Just thinking about it made her break out in cold sweat.

But - but she loved Teddy. More than anything else. And if she learned something in the folly that was her life, it was to find happiness wherever she could. To find it and keep it close, because there was always something or someone ready to snatch it away from her.

And she was tired, so tired, to lose the ones she loved!

That's why she was so dangerous during the raids against the Death Eaters. The already feeble morality of Harriet Potter had weakened even more during those months of running and fighting. The simple fact she was even thinking about questioning a Muggle was all the evidence she needed.

"Mistress?"

Almost grateful at the house elf interruption of her thoughts, the witch put a hand on the elf's shoulder in reassurance. Now it was not the time for second guesses, Andromeda and Teddy counted on her. So she took a deep breath, steeled her resolve and asked sharply, "How is our guest, Kreacher?"

The house elf's bulbous eyes sparkled, gesticulating animatedly as he explained on how he secured their prisoner at the best of his magical abilities. Harry forced a placid smile, trying her best to drown out the most disturbing details of his report and had to forcefully remind herself that Kreacher had been Walburga's personal elf and he had been at her service for an extensively long time. So while his excitement was mildly worrisome, it was still not so out of character that she had to be truly concerned.

"Filthy Muggle been three days. Always up, with no food and water. Kreacher took off all his belongings, excluding his pants. Mistress Harry is being Lady. Not to see filthy Muggle naked. No, no!"

Harry eyed him with the corner of her eyes, disbelieving. Mentally, she took note never to mention that she lived more than six months with a boy in a tent in his presence. Or Kreacher would really off Ron!

"Mistress 'Dromeda said filthy Muggle make fire. Kreacher tied filthy Muggle with old noble Mistress Black's no-magic chains and put him in kind Master Regulus' old potion lab. Master Regulus made big fire snake there, but the walls remained unharmed. Filthy Muggle's fire be weaker than noble Master Regulus' fire snake" Kreacher proudly nodded his head at this statement, his big ears dangling up and down with the movement as he drowned on the greatness of his previous late Master. However, Harry focused on another little detail, scrunching her eyes in disbelief. 'The Blacks had a room that was Fiendfyre proof?!'

Shrugging to herself, she looked at her little servant and tried to sound as impressed as she could be for his sake. "Very good Kreacher"

Kreacher nodded, pleased and, with Harry's consent, opened the cell to greet their guest. His lips curled in a maniacal smile. She might be just a half-blood, but the Black's blood ran thick in the veins of his new Mistress, and Kreacher couldn't be more delighted.

 **oOo**

Harry massaged her hurting throat and tried to swallow the bile still trying to crawl out her stomach. She could hear Kreacher humming merrily in the basement below her, where she was sure he was disinfecting all the rooms from that 'Filthy Muggle's filthiness' – his words.

She gagged again, more of the bitter taste ran up her throat and she bent again on the sink, feeling her stomach turning. Taking the towel from the rail, she put it under the cold water and patted her face with it. Her dull jade green eyes –so very different from Lily Evans' the innocent ones- studied her gaunt appearance in the mirror. The sight of it disgusted her.

She shifted to the door where she felt Andromeda silver gaze settle on her and when she spoke, her empty tone echoing in the silence of the room like a condemnation. "Teddy has been taken by the Italian Mafia, Andy."

The woman closed her eyes in grief and then laid a cold against her flushed cheek, the touch filled with anguish and concern for her. For what she had been forced to do. Not that it mattered. Her condition at that moment was the last of her worries. She would survive, she had always been great at surviving. It was knowing how to live that she struggled with.

 **oOo**

It was in times like those that Harry appreciated Andromeda's Slytherin mind. The woman never went on without a plan or ten... And that was great because even if she was raised in a Muggle household, Harry had no idea on how Muggle government or laws as a whole worked- as her farce of trial showed. Luckily, Barrister Ted Tonks and his Muggle lawyers of parents had known more than enough on the subject and shared their common passion for the Law with an amused Andromeda.

"You need new Muggle documents and records," Andromeda stated in a no-nonsense tone.

Harry looked at her, abruptly stopping her movements and promptly splashing the tea that she was pouring on the coffee table. "Merlin –you're right... I don't have an ID, let alone a passport."

An elegant black eyebrow raised and Andromeda's deadpanned tone cut through the slight silence that followed Harry's mess. With a flick of her wand, she banished the liquid. "And even if you had one you still could use it, if you don't want to be arrested. You are still Wanted, dear."

The Girl-Who-Lived allowed herself fall against the back of the green armchair she was seated on with an exasperated sigh. "What a mess..."

"Don't worry, I already know someone who can forge the papers for the right price," Andromeda smiled, pleased, as she took her cup of tea. "Or at least he knows someone who can make them"

"Who?"

"Mundungus Fletcher" the other answered as if it was the most obvious answer.

Harry sat up straighter and asked sceptically, "He survived the War?"

"That man is like a cockroach, he never dies." Andromeda snorted, seemingly almost disgusted of talking about the thief. "Bind him to secrecy and then Obliviate him after he gives them to you."

Harriet rose an eyebrow at the woman's coldness. The Obliviation charm wasn't one of her best, she really could mess his brain up.

Almost like she read her mind, Andromeda snapped back, "Don't make that face! Salazar knows who he would sell the information to for a bit of gold. It's just to be sure."

"Speaking of gold..." Harry started looking a bit hesitant, "what about Gringotts?"

"That's... that's a good question.." hummed the older woman, pursing her lips as a frown marred her beautiful face. "They aren't very happy about your little field trip in their caves, obviously."

"Obviously," whispered Harry, anxiously playing with her spoon.

"And you did thousands of galleons worth damage" Andromeda added, making Harry blush lightly.

It wasn't her fault the dragon ran away and destroyed everything, ok? It's not like she blinded him!

"So... I don't have even a knut in my vault, do I?"

Andromeda smiled "Thankfully, they liked even less not to be in charge of their own bank. Voldemort's regime really pissed them off. Not only did they decimated their accountants, but they also took their gold. You are lucky. Your vaults remained untouched. " She still grimaced, "Expect to pay some heavy fines, anyways. Very heavy."

Shrugging, Harry almost smirked appreciating the irony. Who would have thought she would be saved by the Death Eaters' greed?

"We have to decide something else..." Andromeda continued.

"What?"

"Your new name. For obvious reasons, you can't use Potter, Black, Evans or any of the ones that can be connected to someone you know. When Shacklebolt realizes you disappeared, half of the Britain Enclave will start searching for you."

"What about you?" The teenager asked with worry.

"Oh, I will think of something. Don't worry about me," Andromeda said with a smile. Then, with a swish of her wand, she cast a spell on Harry and the genealogic tree of the Potter House began to draw itself on a sheet of parchment that popped out of thin air.

Harriet Lily Potter was written in a neat writing at the bottom of the paper, identifying her as the last of the Potter line. Tied by a black line, her name was connected to her biological parents, James Charlus Potter and Lily Grace Evans while the red line signifying an adoption linked her to her godfather, Sirius Orion Black.

"The first time I leaned my parents' names I was eleven. I never thought I would learn my grandparents' too. Never mind all my ancestors'." Harry commented running a finger along the names on the tree.

Andromeda grimaced lightly as regret made its way in her chest. They really made a mess with Harriet's childhood. "I'm sure Sirius told you Black family had the tradition to name its children after stars and constellations. Well, the Potter family had something similar, they named their children after great kings or Roman emperors. That's why your name is Harriet, it's a variation of the General Hadrian's name."

Harry couldn't help the small snort that raised out of her, as she tried not to laugh, "And people wondered why dad had such a big ego?"

Grinning in acknowledgment, Andromeda kept going as she wasn't interrupted, "As wizarding tradition dictates, the first child is given the middle name the parent's name -of the same gender, of course. But you can't keep any of that while you go in the Muggle world..." she trailed off in through.

Harry sighed, green eyes dimmed dejectedly despite how sound the suggestion was. The girl had very little that reminded her of her parents and her name was one of them. She may not like it much but it was hers. "I don't want to throw away my heritage like that."

Andromeda seemed to think for a second, "You don't have to." She mumbled trying to find a solution to the teen's gloom, "You could just use your Evan side more. For example, you could always use your paternal grandmother's name as middle name." She finished, gradually becoming more assured as she spoke.

Harriet looked at the scroll, following her father's name until she came to his parents. "Why the middle name?" She asked.

"Dorea stands out too much." Andromeda said as she stared at where Harry was pointing, "It's a Wizarding name, too peculiar for a Muggle one."

The seventeen years old nodded, acknowledging that Dorea Black's name was kind of peculiar. "Ok then, middle name. What about the first name?"

"Your maternal Grandmother's?" Andromeda asked.

Harry looked at the sheet and snorted. "Hell will freeze over before I will be called Rosamund."

Andromeda laughed hard, almost spilling her tea on her red robes, "Maybe not Rosamund but I like the flower name theme."

"Yes, it was an Evans' tradition to name baby girls after flowers. So... something like Primrose?" Harry suggested.

"Only if you want to be called Inconstancy" Andromeda commented, crossing her legs and putting her cup back on the coffee table.

The young Potter inclined lightly her head, a surprised air around her. "You know flower language?"

"I was born a Black, of course, I know flower language! You really think the Black Ladies would pass up the ability to blackmail and threaten with just a flower?" Andromeda said, staring at Harry in disbelief, "I mastered this art before going to Hogwarts."

Harriet blinked twice and put her own cup down next to the woman's. "Sometimes you really scare me..." she muttered.

Andromeda's answering smirk would have made Walburga Black proud.

"Anyway, what about Ivy, Andy? It's short and not so old-fashioned" Harry added quickly.

Andromeda hummed "Friendship, Fidelity... it would be a good name if only one of its meaning wasn't 'Anxious to please'," she smiled mischievously. "Tell me, Harriet, are you anxious to please?" she teased. The deadly green eyes pinned on her were all the answer she needed. "Well then, maybe you should think of something else..." she continued, amused.

"Marigold?" Harry tried.

"Affection but also Sorrow, Jealousy, Cruelty," Andromeda ran off without much thought. "I think not."

"Amaryllis?"

"Pride and Splendid Beauty. A bit egotistic naming yourself like that, do you think?" Andromeda counted.

Harriet snorted and wanted to call her a hypocrite. She wasn't the one with a sister named Narcissa, "What about Hyacinth?"

"I suppose Rashness describes you quite well," she commented in a passing smirk.

"How kind of you," Harry replied with enough sarcasm that Andromeda chuckled, "Peony?" she tried, beginning to just chuck names out there.

"Bashfulness for the bold Gryffindor Golden Girl," Andromeda practically sang.

Harriet felt the irritation boiling in her veins. She had the feeling nothing she would suggest would satisfy the older witch. Gardenia"

Andromeda sent her a glare of her own. "Charm, really? Are you trying to break the Secrecy Statute, Harry?"

"Hydrangea" Harry growled in retort.

"Cold-hearted, Frigidity."

"Anemone," she threw out, almost yelling.

"Death and ill omens! Harriet, are you doing this on purpose to irritate me?!" Andromeda finally snapped.

Harry crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the window. The vases on the window across the street caught her attention. "Tulip?" She questioned in the following silence.

Andromeda smiled almost sarcastically, "That's a good one, uncommon but has a nice ring to it. It means Famous and Highly Regarded"

"Merlin not!" Harry almost shouted, turning back to stare at Andromeda. "After all this crap about the Girl-who-Lived? I really do not need a fake name to remind me of my celebrity status!"

"Salazar you are so difficult, Harriet! But, alright, give me another one" she sighed in the end.

Harry drummed her fingers on the arm of her armchair. There weren't a lot of flower names that she liked, weren't too strange. "Poppy?" she tried uncertainly.

"I told to use not the name of one of your acquaintances," she sighed, "Anyway, with all the respect I have for Madam Pomfrey and her skills as mediwitch, I will not let you be called Eternal Sleep, nor Immortality!"

"Laurel?" The teen tried, uncertain. She quite liked this one, to be honest.

Andromeda looked at her half confused and half incredulous, "You do know the laurel was one of the symbols of the Greek God Apollo, right?" Seeing the girl wasn't catching her reference, she continued "The God of Prophecies and Prophets?"

She looked at Andromeda almost terrified, her green eyes growing big as plates. The only thing that was running in her mind were the words 'God of Prophecies'. And they were the most horrible ones she had ever heard after 'You have to open the Yule Ball with your dance partner as Triwizard Champion'.

She shivered. No, Laurel was a big, big no.

Harry took a breath and she tiredly tried again, almost wishing Voldemort killed her for real, "...Azalea"

"Fleeting!" Andromeda's patience finally snapped. "Alright, you know what? I will choose your first name. If I leave it in your hands, you'll pick something like Petunia and be named after Anger and Resentment!"

Harriet blinked slowly –once, twice and then a third time. After that, she exploded in the more satisfying and rewarding laugh she ever had! It was no wonder that Aunt Petunia hated her mother so much. Sweet, beautiful, Pure Lily! And she got stuck with Petunia! Oh Merlin, the irony!

"Let's try to see if your Muggle side has a decent surname you can use" Andromeda spoke once Harry finally calmed down, the frustration clear in her tone as she looked at the parchment. Harry did the same thing, silently laughing at the ruffled woman, and pointed at her mother name with a finger. Following the line, she arrived at her grandparents, Rosamund Sanders and R...

Harry froze, as she stared in confusion at the paper. Instead of being written Roger Evans -her maternal grandmother's husband- the man Petunia told Dudley was his grandfather, upon her mother's name there was...

"Who the hell is Renato Sinclair?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A Jaded Family**

 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling while Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to the genius of Akira Amano. I make no claim to ownership on either of them.

 **Summary:** She wasn't a hero or a saviour, not anymore. If she had owed something to the world, she more than paid it back with blood and tears… but when something precious has been taken away, Harriet Potter will discover how far she will go to keep her family safe.

 **A/N:** Before anything else, I wanted to thank **Zaidee Lighthart** for her help in writing this chapter and helping me work out all the plot holes we could find. I really can't appreciate you more, dearie, for listening to all my babblings despite out time difference; you are the best! X) Anyway, she worked really hard to edit the first two chapters of this story to make them readable, so please go back and check them out.

 **A/N:** This chapter has yet to be edited so bear with me. Hopefully I will post the edited version soon.

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 3**

' _Now I remember why Mione was the one who packed my bag before the Hunt.'_

Looking at the meager possessions in front of her, Harry sighed. Finally she understood why Mrs Weasleay got angry if they prepared their trunks only few hours before leaving for the train; the young witch was sure she was forgetting something... Putting on the bed a last pair of socks, she checked her mental list. Again.

Clothers, food, a couple of books, ticket, money, cloak… Now she only needed to find something to put all these thing-

TUNK!

Harry groaned while something small and leathery slammed against the back of her head and propelled her, face first, on the bedspread. Getting her bearing, she pushed herself up with an arm as her free hand caught the small brown purse that made her see the stars. ' _But what the hell?!_ ', she thought, blinking her green eyes.

"Did you really think we would let you go without saying goodbye?" said a male voice behind her. "You really are something, Harry," continued it, amused.

Blushing, the girl got up and turned around, looking at her godbrother while he leaned against her bedroom's door frame. Neville seemed even taller than the last time she saw him and that happened only a week and half before. He was wearing his red Auror coat and the black DA band stood out sharply on his left arm.

' _He must have just returned from a hunt…'_ she concluded, looking at the smears of blood and dust on his uniform. Sometimes it seemed impossible that at only seventeen, he and the rest of the DA decided to join the Auror Corps. She knew it was only temporary but she considered them all too young, too weary, too _jaded_ to take on a responsibility like that. Masterfully she ignored how hypocrite her thought was - considering she was the one in charge of the DA Section in magical police force- and she greeted her fellow Gryffindor with a hug. "It's this the way to greet an old friend?"

His dusty face twisted in a mix of exasperation and affection, "It is when you decide to take an holiday and you let me in charge of the troops; and let's not talk about the paperwork "

She snorted.

 _Paperwork_.

If possible, the desk job was almost as boring as Snape's essays. Almost.

"Don't worry, you will survive," she murmured cheekily, patting the top of his head as he was an annoying little brother. She sniggered at his glower. So cute.

"Yes yes he will, Harriet Potter," confirmed a airy voice and Harry smiled as Luna appeared over Neville's shoulder, a dreamy expression on her pale face. "The Nargles won't bother us much, you can go," continued the Lovegood, stepping over the other witch and hugging her. Harry rose her eyebrows at the boy, asking for a translation to the Ravenclaw's odd words.

"Andromeda Floo-called. She explained," supplied Neville as a heavy scowl marred his face.

"Ah." Harry's face turned ashy as she swallowed dryly. Really, what could she say?

Luna put her hand on the girl's shoulder, for once her blue eyes were clear. "We will go with you, if you want, Harry. All you have to do is ask…"

The Potter smiled as her expression saddened and shook her head in denial. "We can't all disappear… With Ron and Mione gone, Ginny and George grieving Fred, the DA needs someone to coordinate them. Neville can't do it alone, Lu." Then grimacing and looking at the witch in particular, she added "And you two are pureblood."

The two nodded and Neville made a face at the thought of him and Luna waltzing around the Muggle world. It was like asking for a disaster to happen.

' _And Merlin only knows how Harry's luck is more than enough to make trouble,'_ thought him smirking to himself. Almost like the girl in question read his mind, Harry glowered at him.

The wizard simply smiled innocently. It was true and they both knew that.

"Anyway, we came bearing gifts," chipped Luna, grabbing the purse in Harry's hand. "Weightless and bottomless, with a bunch of charms that will not let it be ruined or stolen from you. It has an Undetectable Extension charm too."

Sighing in relief, Harry took the purse and hugged it between her scarred arms. Hermione took the beaded handbag with her in her travel and she really feared she would have had to drag her poor battered trunk around half Europe. She grinned brightly, she really had the best of friends.

"It was my mother's" murmured Neville crossing his arms in front of him, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Harry made an strangled sound from the deep of her throat, her hands started trembling slightly while her eyes grew huge at his confession. Letting a welcoming expression paint his face, the young Longbottom shrugged, "It was only collecting dust in the wardrobe anyway."

' _Unlikely,'_ Harry thought. His house elves would have killed themselves before letting their Mistress' things collect dust. And they both knew that. Pinning him with an skeptical look, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Mum would have liked for you to use it," he admitted in the end.

' _Maybe,'_ reflected the Girl-who-Lived. Both of them hadn't forgotten what exactly tied them together, even more than that blasted prophecy. Alice had been chosen to be her godmother; if Dumbledore hadn't decided to send her to her Aunt's house, the two of them would have grown up as siblings… Even just for a little while, Alice Longbottom would have been _her_ mother too. Grateful, Harry hugged him tight, "It'll take well care of it. Thank you"

They stayed like that for a minute or two, basking in the other's warmth when Luna jumped in between them, unable to wait any more. "Open it, open it!" the blond exclaimed, pulling again and again one of Harry's arms.

Amused, the Girl-who-Lived inserted a hand in the purse and frowned when it came in contact with a lot of cold and sleek things. Pulling out one of the objects, Harry looked at the vial in her palm; a bright red colour swirled inside the glass. A Pepper-up potion.

"It was a fortune that our home had the potion lab built in basement," hummed Luna in her singular way, nodding to the vial "Most of mum's potions survived the roof collapse. They are all under stasis."

Harry could only watch her friend. The potions' prices doubled after the Blood War, some even tripled after the closing of borders. It was a month and half after the Battle of Hogwarts, the ingredients' importations were still blocked; it was a miracle the Ministry had enough potions for the St. Mungo and the Auror Department. What they were giving her was _without_ price…

"There is also a vial of Veritaserium in it!" chipped the Ravenclaw with nonchalance, as she never turned upside down her friend's world, "I nicked it from Snape's old pantry at school."

Neville burst out laughing, running a hand through his short blond hair, "He really did have one, the old bat!" nudging at his godsister with his shoulder, he added, "Your luck really doesn't change, Potter!"

Harry felt her throat close and her bright green eyes get wet, her emotions getting the better of her. Looking at her friends, in her chest rose a feeling that was comfortingly warm and cozy, glowing brighter and brighter with every breath she took. Smiling, she let herself being submerged by the sensation of joy, happiness and gratefulness that was rushing in her veins.

' _These are my friends'_ stated the overwelmed witch in her mind, _'My family.'_

Neville grabbed her, purposely ignoring her lucid eyes, and ruffled her already messy hair, "Well then, what time does your metal thing with wings depart at?"

Snorting, the Girl-who-Lived slapped away his hand as she replied, "It's called airplane, Neville, and my flight to Milan is in five hours."

"We are late then," practically sang Luna, putting the vial back in the purse and dragging the black haired girl back in the bedroom. Surrendering herself at her friend's mercy, Harry sighed and let the blond manhandle her. All this not before catching her fellow Gryffindor's smirk.

"What?" she asked, kind of worried.

"Oh, nothing…" he replied, smirking even wider and joining the girls in Harry's room.

In those five hours, she discovered that packing with Luna was even worse than packing with Mrs Weasley.

 **oOo**

Harry threw herself on her seat with all the grace of an aground whale; she had forgotten just how boring and frustrating were the queue for the plane boarding.

' _And let's not talk about the scare that Muggle thing gave me when it started to make noise,_ ' she thought testily. For thirty seconds Harriet Potter thought her life was officially over, that she would have to spend her last miserable days in jail with Teddy who knows where.

During those thirty seconds she really believed that the charm she used on her papers had failed and the word TERRORIST had splattered itself on the controller's screen upon her photo.

Instead she just didn't take off her belt. Her belt!

"Bloody. Muggles," she hissed under her breath taking off the sweater and ignoring the curious passengers who were staring at her arms. Really, it wasn't so bad! Her worst scratches were covered with gauzes and her bruises had lost their yellowish colour days ago.

Suppressing a groan, Harry covered her face with a hand while a blush rose up her cheeks. Merlin, what she would give for a Notice-me-Not charm! But, really, she did _not_ want to take the chance to blow up the plane… Technology and magic do not mix.

' _Come on, Potter, you should be used to it!'_ she said to herself resolute. The Wizarding World had loved to put their noises in every single aspect of her life; being stared at was part of the gig. Nothing new there.

The energy started and, instinctively, she reached for the seat armrest, holding it tight. A groan of pain made her turn to the person sitting next to her; the boy's blue eyes were scrunched with hurt. He smiled awkward and signaled her to look down; it was not the armrest what she was crushing.

Harriet did groan out aloud too.

oOo

Basil had to admit it, he didn't see it coming.

He thought he would just go in England, discover why all their informants disappeared in the last year and then come back home. Nice and easy.

Just it didn't happen. Half of them were dead and the other half didn't know anything. Even the journey back was full of surprises… But in his defense, who would expect a Sky in business class?

Skies were the most important members in the Mafia World, practically royalty. So sought after by Elements for their acceptance, their warmth, for being _home_ that a Sky was essentially pampered and revered by his Guardians and Famiglia. In almost an obsessed way.

Ergo, Sky don't travel in business class. Ever. And certainly not in presence of an unknown Element!

That's why when he sensed the Flames of Sky on his airplane, his intuition had screamed 'Danger!' It was easy to unleash the protective instincts of a Guardian, it took _nothing_ to make them attack if they thought you could be a risk for their Sky.

Only, it didn't happen.

No Flame wrapped itself around the Sky, no blaze warned him away… nothing. And this was worrying. No Sky was left alone, specially not when they had that Flame power.

Nervous, Basil brushed his sandy lock of hair from his eye and looked at the girl who was walking hesitantly down the aisle. Her emerald green eyes, hidden by a pair of atrocious glasses, jumped from one number to the others trying to find her seat. The first thing he saw was that she was skinny, almost dangerously so; her thin face was too pale and tired. Not to mention her clothers… The young mafioso scrunched his lip, annoyed. What kind of Guardian let his Sky fall in those conditions?! Why there was no-

His breath got caught in his throat when the girl stopped in front of him. Her short curly black hair parted, highlighting the cut right below the hairline and the yellowish bruise on her cheekbone… a lightning bolt scarred her forehead… suddenly her haggard appearance took a more terrifying meaning. He knew that sometimes Elements reacted in a violent way to the Sky Attraction; some were clearheaded enough to get away before doing something they will regret, others… others tried to force a Bond and ended up hurting or killing the Sky.

Watching that young girl, Basil felt his Rain Flames seething and raging under his skin. This was not the way to treat a Sky! Letting his Flames leaking out from him and redirected them towards the hurt girl; her shoulders relaxed under the influence of his Tranquility Attribute and he rejoiced at the feeling of the Sky's Flames be tense no more. Basil didn't have a Sky, the nearest thing to a home was his Master, but Iemistu-sama always had a tight control on them and rarely he could enjoy in their warmth. Sighing, he relaxed himself in his seat, leaving his left arm in the shared armseat and closing his eyes.

The motor of the plane roared and the Sky tensed, clawing her right armseat and his poor hand with a strength it should not be possible from a body so tiny, making him groan in pain.

"Sorry" murmured her blushing strongly and taking away her hand.

"Ah, worry not, my Lady, it could have happened to anybody," he chuckled massaging his hand. Harry rose a puzzled eyebrow at his archaic way of talking in his Italian accent but still nodded her head in assent.

' _Merlin, Hermione is right! I suck at small talk…'_ she thought when the silence became heavy.

"Is this thy first plane flight?" he eventually said, looking at her with kind blue eyes.

"Ah, yes"

"And… are thou sure thee should been here alone?"

Her green eyes looked at his perplexed. "I meant…" the boy tried to explain "I meant, there is no one who is going with thee, my Lady? No family or friend?"

"Italy isn't so far away… I don't need a babysitter" commented her shrugging casually.

"I'm sure, my Lady but nay even a _Guardian_?" whispered Basil, looking at her closely and stressing the last word like it explained everything. Maybe for him it did but definitely not for Harry..

"No, no… guardian," said her slowly, green emerald eyes huge and incredulous. She knew she seemed younger than she was, with her petit frame and big eyes, but she was seventeen. She has been considered an adult in the Wizarding World for months now. Actually, she has been treated like an adult since she was fourteen. Anyway, she didn't have a good feeling about this 'guardian' thing. In fact, the Italian boy, if possible, became even more worked up.

"How.. how could have they left thee alone?! It's dangerous for thee, my Lady" Basil felt his Flames crackle and writhe. Buon Dio, you don't let a Sky go around like that! Where the hell was her Famiglia?

Harry's aristocratic face hardened and she hissed enraged, "I can take care of myself!"

Basil's gaze run again all over her injuries and sighed. "Thou has not to sacrifice thyself this way; even if my Lady feel the need to forgive and forget, thou can not allow those who treated thee this way to keep going on!" finished him taking her hands in his.

' _What the hell is he talking about?!_ ' she thought gob-smacked. Harry looked up and down the aisle worried, searching for a free seat to move to. This boy really was nice and all but really this conversation was starting to become creep.

"I can see thee hasn't been hurt too gravely but worry not my Lady, I'm here to free thee from thy chains. Allow me to guide thee and I shall show thee how this world can be magnificent for such as us!" he blurted out waving his arms around and becoming more and more animated.

Harry burst out laughing at his ridiculous act. Merlin, when was last time she honestly laughed? It seemed like years!

' _Maybe he isn't so bad,'_ the girl thought smiling and letting herself relax. While strange, the boy wasn't a danger for her and she was good at understanding people; all her years with the Dursleys trained her well.

"What's your name?" she asked tilting her head.

"I can't believe I didn't even introduce myself to thee, my Lady," said the Mafioso offering his hand "I'm Basil."

"Nice to meet you, Basil," she said taking his palm in her own and sending a look at her fake passport.

In the beginning she freely admitted she had been scared when Andromeda declared _she_ would be the one to decide her 'flower name'. That woman happily condemned her own daughter to be called Nymphadora, after all. Now she couldn't be happier of having let Andromeda have _carte-blanc_ on her new identity. She said she chose it because it described a lot of qualities she refined during those hard years of struggle - faith, hope, courage, change - and what she hoped she would find now that the war ended – harmony.

Harry wasn't sure if she really was all those things, if she really grew in a new, true person. If she could ever reincarnate the concept of the _Iridescence_ that was behind this flower or find her own state of _awareness_. She only knew that its literal translation meant 'Flower of the Lily' and any homage to the amazing woman that had been her mother was enough for her. With that thought, Harry's smile broadened and shook his hand, "I'm Iris Sinclair."

 **oOo**

The Mafioso's heart literally stopped for a moment. It took all his training to prevent his smile from freeze in his face and for his eyes not to become huge as plates.

' _S-Sinclair?'_ thought Basil half terrified and half disbelieving _'A Flame Active with Sinclair as their surname?!'_

Gently he let her hand go and studied carefully the Sky Flames she was unconsciously emitting. They were very _very_ strong and very _very_ pure; Flames like that didn't just pop out of nowhere. Specially with that surname.

Everyone knew of the Renato Sinclair. He had been one of the most dangerous killer, the very best, before the Arcobaleno Reborn stole his title. He was a Flame User unaligned to any Famiglia and so infallible that his hits were paid twice or thrice the normal price: a merciless killer so legendary that just saying his name made the blood freeze in the veins of the other Mafiosi.

Till his disappearance, at least.

No one knew where he was, his traces were erased with the same mastery that he dealt with his contracts, but they knew he wasn't dead. If someone had managed to kill him, they would have not keep it quiet.

' _He must have retired in England...'_ Basil concluded while he watched her lower her seat a bit, smile and say she would sleep till the landing. The Italian nodded lightly, too absentminded to take offence of her lack of need to talk to him.

True to her words, she felt asleep in seconds thanks to the soft rumbling of the plane.

The Rain stayed silent for the rest of the flight, lost in his thoughts. His return home just got a lot more complicated.

 **oOo**

Basil dialed on his phone while he looked at the young Sinclair with the corner of his eyes. She was waiting for her to be cleared to enter in Italy and he didn't have much time. A couple of ring later, the phone was picked up on the other side.

"Oi Basil! Do you have any idea what time is it?" said a loud male voice. "I hope you have a good reason to wake me up at 5 am."

"Master," he sighed relieved. He really didn't know what to do. His anxiousness had to have leaked out in his voice because the CEDEF Boss's tone became worried, "Everything ok, Basil?"

The boy run a hand through his sandy hair, "I found a young Sky, Master, no Guardians nor a Famiglia" then he kept going on, lowering his voice and admitting reluctantly, "She isn't… well, Master "

The line was silent for a couple of moment where he knew Iemitsu-sama was valuing the pros and the cons of adding the newfound fragile Sky in the CEDEF or even in the Famiglia.

' _Skies are natural leaders, adding this girl in the Vongola will only strengthen our power,'_ reflected the young Mafioso, _'The Famiglia treats its members well. She will be hurt and used without the protection of a mafia family. The most logical thing for her is joining us,'_ continued trying to suffocate the guilt of involve such a innocent girl in the Mafia World.

"Name?" heard Basil from his Master, the sound of papers being shifted and a pen being uncapped echoed in the background. The Rain took a quick look behind himself, reassuring himself Iris was still there. She was rummaging in her purse and taking out a shining silvery cloth. A scarf, maybe; it did get cold in the airport.

"Iris Sinclair" he murmured in the phone taking his eyes from her.

The noise of a chair crushing on the floor and the loud WHAT of his Master made the Rain's poor ears ring. "Don't lose her Basil! Keep her with you till someone come to pick you two up!" shouted the older Mafioso on the phone. He really wasn't surprised; if he didn't know he would have scared her to death, Basil would have had the same reaction.

The Mafioso turned around and readied himself at stall Iris enough to give his fellow agents time to get there. He really hoped she wouldn't take offence for her kidnapping. His blue eyes scanned the whole room for the girl…. and this time it was he who shouted on the phone.

"M-Master! She isn't here anymore!"

oOo

Iemitsu hung his phone up and sighed, clutching a lock of his blond hair in each hand.

 _'What a mess,'_ the Mafioso thought. For years Donna Daniela and Don Timoteo had tried to tie Renato Sinclair to the Vongola Family but the hitman had been always adamant to stay neutral. No Sky had ever been strong enough to seduce the hitman... in this sense, Sinclair reminded him a lot of Reborn.

Both men had always been so infuriately unaligned, despite Reborn inclination to accept the Vongola Family's contracts more. With all three Nono's legitimate heirs dead, Xanxus still smarting for his years as popsicle and his little Tuna-fish still training for his role as Decimo Vongola, the Family was on thin ice.

' _Vongola needs a new alliance…'_ the Young Lion thought, looking at the grainy photo of the girl in his hand. Luckily didn't have problems in taking the airport cameras' recordings; green eyes and black hair were features quite common. _'…if we have to hunt down the girl so it be.'_

Iemitsu nodded to himself and pushed the bottom of his intercom, "Send a red flag to all our allies and informers. Iris Sinclair is in Italy"

Absently, he let himself fall against his office chair and rubbed his tired face. What he just did was dangerous, very dangerous. If Renato Sinclair was still alive… Iemitsu suppressed a shiver.

He just hoped they would survive the famous killer's wrath for taking his little _Arcobaleno_.


	4. Chapter 4

**A Jaded Family**

 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling while Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to the genius of Akira Amano. I make no claim to ownership on either of them.

 **Summary:** She wasn't a hero or a savior, not anymore. If she had owed something to the world, she more than paid it back with blood and tears… but when something precious has been taken away, Harriet Potter will discover how far she will go to keep her family safe.

 **A/N:** Again, this chapter has yet to be edited, so bear with me. **Zaidee Lighthart** , in all her magnificence,is doing it for me, so soon all the chapters should be edited!My thanksto **xxSaffire55x** for reminding me the proprieties of the Rain Flames ;)) In the end of the chapter has been incorporated part of dialogue **Lighted Candle** suggested in the challenge. Some words have been changed to fit the story.

 **A/N:** Before you start reading, here some translations you may need:

Genova – Genoa.

Buongiono – Good morning.

Signorina – Miss.

Tabaccheria – Tabacchi shop.

Ciao! E' già occupato? – Hi! Is (this seat) already taken?

La Famiglia Estraneo?! Sei pazza?! – The Estraneo Family?! Are you crazy?!

Principessina - Little princess

Merda! – Shit!

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 4**

 _Harry looked around her._

 _The room was dark and humid, smelling of sweat and ashes. It was also incredibly cold too. The man was there, kneeling on the dirty floor and chained, with the same burn patterns that marred Andromeda's skin. Harry looked at him but the emotion of helplessness that rose up in when she looked at the woman, didn't appear. That man did everything on his own, he hurt himself trying to escape from Grimmauld Place's basement._

 _He didn't need her pity. Even_ she _, the one with the missing godson, didn't need pity._

 _No, what she needed was a vial of Veritaserum. Or the ability to perform Legilimecy. And she didn't have either one._

" _I hope you have found your permanence in our prisons of your liking, sir. I'm Harriet Potter, the owner of this house, and you have taken something of mine," she intoned unsympathetic, playing with her wand and looking at him with cold, dark eyes. "I would like to get the child back, if you please."_

 _The man didn't even raise his head to look at her, snorting at her words. When he started talking, his voice was grave and hoarse after three days without being able to drink water, "They sent a child to do the work of an adult," snickered the prisoner, "What are you? Fourteen?"_

" _I'm not here to hear your opinion on my age. I'm here because you kidnapped my godson," she snapped back at him, a carefully blank expression on her face_ , _"Where is the child?"_

" _If you think that a slip of a girl like you can scare me, you have another way coming, mate," he laughed, taking pleasure in seeing her scowl and fist her hands._

" _Obstringere," she ordered with a brisk tone and the tip of her wand glowed a deep yellow colour. At her command, the chains tightened around him, cutting deeply in his burns and putting pressure on the broken bones Andromeda gave him. Harry's expression transformed in a mask of fury and her eyes became hard like emeralds, "You will find that there are a lot of people who are scared of this slip of a girl," she hummed lightly, "And they were a lot more dangerous than you,_ mate. _"_

 _At this the man pinned his dark eyes in hers, wheezing while his breath was stolen from him by the bonds, and snarled, "Of which Famiglia are you, girl?"_

'Famiglia? Isn't it Italian?' _she mulled over in her mind. Harry's rose an eyebrow, challenging him with her gaze to ask more. Even if she had no idea of what he was talking about, he was still talking and that was what mattered…_

" _There aren't a lot of Mafiosi who can have this kind of technology," he mumbled lost in his thoughts, not giving mind at the interested look in the girl's face, and then asked her, "Bovino? Or maybe those idiots of the Macchina?"_

 _Silence pervaded the room while Harry's worked out the new piece of information. She knew exactly what was a Mafioso and, consequently, the Mafia. And it wasn't good news for her. At all. "Does it matter of which one I am a member?" she snorted in the end, letting her tone drop in sarcasm, "If you are so_ great _then why didn't you free yourself from a stupid chain?"_

" _How do you dare?! I'm a proud member of the Estraneo Famiglia!"_

 _Harry hummed, an expression of triumph shined in her face, "So that's how you lot are called… Estraneo. And you are a Mafia Family." The man paled and then his face contorted in a mask of fury, knowing he had been tricked. He tried to bring his Rain Fames to the surface, wanting to_ burn _that she-devil who was mocking him, but it was no use. In the exact moment they started to freeze and fracture, the metal of the chains absorbed his Flames and transferred their effects on his body._

" _Where I can find them? Where did they take the child?"_

 _He shook his head in denial._

" _Where?" hissed the girl, waving the little stick in her hand and the binds tightened again, ripping a scream out of him. Still, in the middle of being crushed, the scientist in him couldn't help but ask himself how exactly she commanded them without using Flames. The child they kidnapped was strange, this girl even more so._

" _G-Genova," he spat out when he stopped screaming himself raw. Harry ignored him, tightening again and again the Mafioso, her face a mask of desperation and her eyes sharp as a razor, "Good. Now, tell me, how can you create the fire?"_

 _The man just laughed, a hint of hysterics in his tone and an expression of terror in his eyes. Harry gripped tight her wand, her knuckles turning white from the pressure she was putting on the wood. Her mind rebelled; Teddy was out there, all alone, probably screaming and crying and hurting and that man was laughing, laughing, laugh-… she didn't even grasp she rose her wand arm. She realised what she did only after she cast the curse, only after the stones of the floor turned red and wet with blood and the room filled with screams. Harry swallowed dryly._

 _Sectumsempra._

'I used Sectumsempra on a Muggle,' _she thought incredulous for a second and then she gritted her teeth. When did she start to lose control this way? She thought she grew up from this kind of idiotic rashness after almost killing Malfoy!_

 _She watched while the Mafioso bled and wheezed on her basement floor. She felt her eyes getting wet while guilt clawed her heart. What had she done?! She took a couple of steps forward and rose her wand again with the intention of healing him at least a little bit._

 _At her movement, the man's mouth tightened in feral desperation and his dark eyes glowed a light blue hue. The room temperature plummeted and frost formed on the stone pavement; the chains cracked and then exploded._

 _It was only her war-trained instincts that made her cast the Protego charm just_ _in time_ _before everything around her was engulfed in scorching cold fire and dying screams._

Iris bolt upright, now awake, green eyes big and terrified. She struggled to free her arms from the sheets she was sleeping under and then hided her face under her trembling hands.

"It's a dream. A dream. Only a dream…" she repeated in vain, trying to chase away the imagines that were tormenting her. Her stomach tuned while the voice of the Mafioso keep ringing in her ears. She put her hands on them but the cries didn't stop.

' _That's because it's not a dream! You tortured that man till he decided to kill himself!'_ hissed a small voice in the back of her mind –so soft and haunting that in her panicking state she barely heard what it said.

"Yes, yes I did," she murmured confirming her sin. At her admission, her throat constricted and an uncomfortable pressure made its way in her chest; her lungs started screaming, demanding oxygen and sending her mind in disarray.

' _I'm having a panic attack,'_ she concluded, in a brief moment of lucidity. Tears stung her eyes and ran down her cheeks leaving behind salty trails while black spots danced in her vision. Attacks like this one was a common happening in the last months but they still left her pretty scared, unable as she was to control her body. Fortunately, precisely because it happened so often, she knew exactly what to do.

"M-My name is Harry P-Potter. I'm s-seventeen years o-old,"she whimpered breathlessly, trying to recite the mantra Andromeda taught her.

The gasps were ragged and painful as their tore through her throat, searing her chest from inside. She tried to take a breath. She failed.

"I-I'm a witch. M-My parents w-were James and L-Lily Potter."

She tried to inhale again, once and then twice. In her mind, the screams were replaced with the sound of her father's body drop dead on the ground and her mother's cries while she begged for her child's life to be spared.

"I have a-a godson, T-Teddy. We live in G-Grimmauld Place, London,"she tried again.

Imagining the face of the baby usually relaxed her but this time a sob ripped her throat. Teddy wasn't there with her, he was somewhere out there all alone and kidnapped. At this through, her breath got caught again and she pierced her nails in her palms to stop herself from thinkingabout _this_ and starting another attack.

"I like T-Transfiguration and I'm g-good in Charms. I'm best in Defense."

This time the precious air slid down her pipe and she almost cried in relief. The truthfulness in that phrase grounded her a bit, making her think clearer.

"I go by I-Iris now. I'm in Genoa, Italy. I arrived by t-train from Milan."

She felt her muscles loosen up and her body fell limp. The oxygen flowed to her lungs easier, clearing her sight from the dark sheen that blinded her just before. Now she could easily see the dawn light that painted the white wall in front of her a soft orange and the horrible paint hung on it.

"I'm laying o-on my bed now. I-In the room I booked last night."

She calmed further as her mind registered that, yes it wasn't her usual bedroom but no, she wasn't there without her consent. The yellow curtains and the second-hand furniture belonged to her hotel's bedroom, the one she was staying till she discovered where hell was her godson.

"Thanks, Andy," she croaked out, feeling her breath regulate in her still burning chest. She closed her eyes wishing for the calm and the peace that could be obtained only through strong Occlumency walls. Iris snorted while her cheeks became wet from her tears. Occlumency was never her forte to begin with and after her mind had been played with by Snape and Voldemort, even the littlest hope to protect herself behind the barriers was gone. There would need a lot of time and patience to rebuilt them from zero, and right now, she didn't have the time nor the inclination to start meditating.

"It's alright now," Iris stated, almost like she was trying to convince herself, "I'm _okay_. I'll be okay."

With this firm in mind, Iris made her way to the bathroom, grimacing at the sensation of her sweated shirt stack at her back. Running a hand through her damp hair, the girl suppressed a sob and dragged herself into the shower, letting the water spray to wash away her tears and her thoughts.

She didn't have time to feel sorry for herself.

 **oOo**

Dressed in a T-shirt, a pair of shorts, and sunglasses, Iris was the image of the typical tourist on holiday. Sitting in the meal-room of her hotel, she took opened the map of the city she acquired at the reception and laid it out on her breakfast table. And then stared at it.

She had no idea where to start to her search.

' _Congratulation Potter! You really are a stubborn, impulsive Gryffindor!'_ she mentally berated herself, _'Only you can jump on a plane to a foreigner city without having a plan in mind on what to do next!'_

Letting out a sigh, she put her head between her hands defeated. Now she talked like Draco, too.

"Buongiono, Miss! Is everything ok?"

Iris jumped at the unexpected question –mentally cursing herself for being so distracted- and smiled at the owner of the hotel. The man, an old gentleman with a round belly and rosy cheeks, looked at her with a cheerful expression on his face, "I didn't mean to scare you, signorina," he chirped, "Are you choosing what attraction to visit today?"

An idea forming in her mind, Iris slapped an excited expression on her face and chirped, "I was planning my routes… There is so much to see!"

"That's true!" he said bursting out laughing. Then he put a gentle hand on her shoulder, "But be careful! There are bad people around and not all the streets are safe for a little lady like you."

The teenager mentally rolled her eyes –why did everyone think she was some kind of damsel in distress?!- but still let a troubled expression bleed in her features, "Could you show me which ones not to go?" she murmured her chewing her lower lip and putting on her best doe eyes. He _melted_.

' _Merlin, the things I do for you, Teddy!'_ she thought sighing.

Taking a pen from the front of his shirt pocket, the man smiled kindly and started to circle out all the worst frequented streets. "If you avoid these places, everything will be ok," he murmured in a paternal tone.

Looking at the now modified map, a mischievous glint entered in her green eyes, "Do you know where I could buy a disposable camera, sir?" Nodding and thanking him for giving her the directions to the nearest Tabaccheria, Iris' face broke out in a smile. One that the Marauders would have been proud of.

 **oOo**

"I can't believe I'm really doing this," Iris murmured, playing lightly with the little paper umbrella in her drink. And she really couldn't because she, Harriet Lily Potter, Girl-who-Lived, Woman-who-Conquered, wanted terrorist now Iris Dorea Sinclair, illegal immigrant, was sitting at the bar of a House of Pleasure in one of the worst and most Mafioso frequented streets of Genova. All this just to find information…

Her friends were _so_ going to kill her.

Her mental rumbling was interrupted by the sound of high stilettos clicking on the polished floor. Walking towards her, there was a beautiful blond woman in a tight red dress and dramatic make-up; a woman who was clearly comfortable with her own body and the attention her scanty outfit gave her, even in a place like the House.

' _She is obviously one of the workers…'_ Thought the teenager raising a black eyebrow in question when the woman stopped next to her.

"Ciao! E' già occupato?" said a blond nodding to the free seat next to her and smiling brightly.

Iris smiled apologetically, in her face a confused expression, "Sorry but I don't speak Italian."

"Oh you are British!" clapped the blond switching in English no bothering to ask again if she could sit down, "Don't worry, not all our clients are Italians."

"You speak very well for…" Iris stopped abruptly and bit her lip. Mentally cursing herself for her slip, she took a sip of her drink trying to hide her blushing cheeks. Didn't her brain connect with her tongue before speaking?!

The Italian woman smiled knowingly, and hummed lightly, "I speak well for being a hooker, you mean?" Iris red face became almost neon in colour. "Don't worry, honey, it's not the worst thing that has been said to me," continued the escort nonchalant.

"It was still rude of me," murmured the teenager, unable to meet the other's eyes.

The blond winked at the younger girl, "Look how sweet you are!" she said putting a hand on the other's hand and coming closer to her face, "I'm Camilla!"

Iris almost wanted to snort. Camilla's name was as fake as hers, but, she supposed, in a profession like the one the blond worked on, having an alias was a must. Smacking a friendly expression on her face, the teen offered her hand to the Firefly, "Iris, nice to meet you."

"Well then, tell me, Iris," said the escort, "what is doing a little princess like you in a place like this?"

Iris put down her glass and turned in her seat giving all her attention to the woman. She took a deep breath and then said, tone bashful and awkward, "I just wanted to spend a couple of interesting hours in company."

Camilla rose a blond eyebrow rose halfway incredulous and halfway impressed. She looked up and down at the teenager in front of her. She really was a shy little princess. Lowering her eyelashes on her blue eyes, she got near Iris' face and purred with a sultry tone, "I could help you with _that_ , if you want to."

Iris swallowed dryly and wiped her sweaty hand on her jeans. _'I really_ really _hope I know what the hell I'm doing,'_ she thought almost hyperventilating. Fighting down the blush, Iris nodded shyly, her green eyes lowered to her drink, and said, "Yes, yes you could."

Camilla rose from her chair, her sparkly red dress catching the light, and motioned to her new client the stairs leading upstairs, "Maybe we should take this somewhere else… Can you pay for it?"

"Money isn't a problem," replayed Iris getting up and handing some banknotes to the bartender, a man with dark eyes and hair. The escort nodded and took the key he handed her and lead her new client to their room. Too taken in watching Camilla, Iris never saw the man in a suit who ran out of the room talking furiously on the phone after seeing her.

 **oOo**

Iris looked around the bedroom she has just put a privacy ward on. It was quite simple; a bed, two bedside tables, a desk and a chair. She would have thought it to be a simple room of a cheap motel if it weren't for the bold red drapes hanging from the bed and the escort who was eating her with her lusty blue eyes.

' _After this, I will never be able to think of my ex-dorm in the same way,_ ' she mulled over grimacing.

Camilla smiled impishly to the young girl cupping her cheek, the soft light of the lamps giving the blond's face an even more alluring aura. She lower her head down and closed her eyes, ready to kiss the teen when a hand covered her lips.

Blushing, Iris backed away from the escort and said, "In reality, I was hoping in another kind of service…"

The Firefly face's hardened and her eyes, before so teasing and flirty, became cold as the ice, "What are you playing at?! I'm not here to be mocked by a spoiled little girl!"

Iris sighed and run a hand through her short curly hair, "I can make your time worthy…" she said taking out of her light jacket a little roll of money. She put it on the desk and looking at the greedy look in Camilla's eyes, she murmured, "There is another one with your name on it if I'm satisfied with what you tell me."

The Firefly sat on the bed and crossed her arms, a haughty expression leaving her face now that she knew she would be paid for her time, "About what?"

"The Estraneo Family. What can you tell me about them?"

"La Famiglia Estraneo?! Sei pazza?!" slipped Camilla in Italian, turning pale and trembling at the mention of the sadistic Family, "No, absolutely not! You don't mess around with Mafia Families!"

Iris put on her best 'disappointed face' and then sighed. "If you put it in this way…" she hummed as she pocked back the little roll and made her way to the door.

Camilla jumped up from the bed and yanked the teen arm back, in her face a mix between frantic and hopeless. "Wait! J-just wait!" the escort said in a trembling tone.

Iris looked hard in the woman's eyes, her dominant hand curled around her wand -hidden in the baggy pocket of her jacket- ready to unleash her magic against the Firefly if she turned out to be a threat. The witch stomped down the guilt crawling up her throat, trying to forget that she was blackmailing a woman who sold herself because she needed money. No woman did that job because she like it. And she was relying on her desperation…

' _You will have time to feel like bad once Teddy is safe! For now, get a move Potter!'_ Said a voice in the back of her mind, the tone eerily similar to Andromeda's in her most annoyed moments. Yes that's was true; she would have time to feel like a monster after her godson was safe. Not a moment before. Hardening herself, she turned to face the woman, an expecting look in her face.

"If they found out I talked about them, they'll kill me," blurted out Camilla, trembling.

"If you won't tell, I won't tell," promised the teen, putting the money back on the table. The Firefly sighed and said, "What do you want to know about them?"

"Everything."

The blond rose a sceptical eyebrow, "And what make you think I know more than what you can find asking around in the bars?"

"I don't but this is the most famous brothel they have in their territory and, from what I understand, this House has the most demand for a chaperon," hummed Iris, leaning against the table, "They may be Mafia but they are still men… and men do love to boast, even more after sex."

The escort snorted and a smirk painted her red lips, "Not much of a little princess, after all… You are right, the Estraneo Family _was_ the one who ruled Genoa."

The teen frowned, "Was?"

"They liked to play at the 'Crazy Little Scientist'," said Camilla shrugging, "In the end, they played with the wrong one. The kid killed them. Half of the inmates too; most of them went crazy after all the experiments there… it was eight or nine years ago, I think."

"The Estraneo members who survived, where is their new base?"

"What makes you believe some of them are still alive?" Answered back Camilla, smiling.

Iris glowered at the Firefly with her glowing green eyes. Hard.

Camilla rose her hand in sign of peace, smiling sardonically, "I don't know where those psychos are. _I_ don't go around searching for dangerous Mafiosi," she continued wickedly, "that, is _suicide._ "

The witch smiled without hilarity. It wouldn't be the first time she did something another person would consider a suicide. _'Nothing different from normal, then,'_ she though mentally snorting. "Someone _must_ know where they are."

The Firefly looked away, obviously conflicted on what to do, wondering if she really wanted to sell out a Mafia Family who could discover what she did. She almost refused to answer the girl when Iris took out another roll of money, put it on the table with its twin and looked at the blond expectantly.

Her need for money won on her survival instincts.

Camilla licked her lips, worried, then she took a fortifying breath and said, "There is a man, a Mafioso, who comes here for a girl, usually on Friday night. He worked freelance for the Estraneo when they ruled this territory," she looked straight in the strange green eyes of the teen, "If someone knows something in Genoa, it's him. He drove the truck for them, taking things from one lab to the others," then the woman rolled her eyes, " I should know. He really liked to groan about his trips."

Iris rose her eyebrows skeptically.

"Never said the was the brightest out there, right princess?"

Nodding, Iris grinned and took out of her purse a package of photos, arranging them neatly on the bed for the woman to see. When she discovered this was the favorite place for Mafiosi to 'relax', Iris stationed herself outside the pleasure house and took photos of every single person who graced its door hoping one of them _was_ an Estraneo.

Her patience lasted five days. A lot more than she through it would, if she wanted to be honest. But really, at this point, if he wasn't in one of them, she was more than ready at Obliviate Camilla and try again the following week. She was _that_ desperate. "Which one of them is he?"

Camilla's blue eyes glinted in seeing the photos of their brothel's regular customers. "Such a prepared little girl, you are," joked the escort scanning the faces of the males. Picking a photo, she pointed to a pudgy middle-aged, black haired man. "It's him. Antonio Parodi"

' _First try too. Potter's Luck at his finest!'_ Iris thought , a satisfied smirk on her face. Then she put her photos back in Alice's purse and then she frowned lightly, she asked, "Do you know where he lives?"

"Do I seem one who works for the Municipality?" snapped the escort back, irritated, "Find him yourself, Principessina!"

"Right," murmured the teen, sighing, "You said he comes here every Friday. Will he be here tonight?"

"I said he _usually_ comes here on Friday. Today _is_ Friday, he _might_ come here tonight!"

Iris just smiled, unconcerned of the Firefly shortened temper.

"Are we finished?" Asked in the end Camilla, ready to bolt with the money. The witch nodded and said, "Yes, thank you," then she gestured to the room, "It's booked for the whole night. If you want, you can stay here."

The escort looked almost tempted but then denied with a resolute gesture of her head, "I still have work. My boss won't be happy if he doesn't see me down soon. Your two hours are almost over."

"I'm afraid I'll have to insist, Camilla," sighed Iris taking out her wand and pointing it at the now alarmed woman, "For tonight, you'll stay here."

Camilla didn't even have time to get up from the bed that a 'Somnium 'and a 'Obliviate' slammed against her, sending her asleep and erasing her memory of strange Brit girl who asked dangerous questions about the Mafia and its Famiglie.

Looking at the clock on the wall of the room, Iris sighed. Camilla was right her two hours were almost over. Nodding resolute, she stripped the escort of her tight red dress and stilettos and, after undressing herself, she put them on. Grimacing, she noticed how her slim body lacked the blond's curves and height.

"I seem like a child who is playing dress up with her mum's fancy dresses," she snorted placing a hand on her chest to keep the dress from falling down, "Damn Dursleys!"

Covering Camilla with a blanket and placing her clothes in the purse, Iris took out her wand and with a swift movement, she cut a lock of hair from the blond's head and Polyjuiced herself in the Firefly.

Reassured that no one would open the door after leaving the sign 'Don't disturb' on the handle, she made herself comfortable in one of the couch back in the bar. Asking the bartender for a drink, Iris let out a long suffering sigh. All this reminded her too much of her second year.

"At least I don't parade as Goyle this time," she murmured with a grimace, tugging down the hem of the dress.

 **oOo**

"God! Why did I decide to sleep on the sofa, again?!"

Shamal yawned and got up, groaning at his aching back. He was a sight to behold, still wearing his stained lab coat and wrinkled dress trousers. Looking at his watch he put on the coffee table the night before, he cursed up a storm. Who the hell did send him e-mails at 3.40 in the morning?! The assassin-doctor dragged his feet to the battered coffee machine upon his mini-bar and poured himself a healthy dose of the black liquid. He drank a cup and then another one, shrugging at bitter taste and at its cold temperature.

Sitting at his desk, he looked at his computer and at that blasted mail icon that was still ringing with a high priority code. The Mist frowned looking at the sender.

Vongola Famiglia.

While still neutral, he sometimes he worked for Family as a doctor. He had to, if he didn't want to spend every single moment of his life fighting killers –and it's not like you could say no to the Vongola!- but still, he wasn't so connected to be mailed a 'Red Flag' regularly. Shrugging, he opened the file. And froze.

Iris Sinclair.

The CEDEF was searching for a _fucking_ Sinclair.

"Merda!" He cursed viciously in Italian taking out his phone and pushing the speed dial. Someone was going to get killed for this. Painfully and slowly.

' _Hopefully the idiot who put a Red Flag on a possible relative of the World Strongest Hitman!'_ He thought vindictive.

Shamal's gaze darted nervously to the photo and the description of the girl while he waited for the Sun Arcobaleno to answer his call. He read the details of her last sighting and he paled. The kid -because, really, she couldn't be a day older than fifteen with those big green eyes and doll face- was seen in one of the most notorious Mafia brothels of Genova.

'… _And who's explain that to Reborn, now?!'_ He mentally despaired. Why the hell it was always him?!

"Ciaossu," greeted the killer with his usual squeaky monotone voice; Shamal felt his throat closing up. The doctor swallowed dryly and his hands got sweaty. "Were you aware you have a blood relative?"

His answer was only silence.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Jaded Family**

 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling while Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to the genius of Akira Amano. I make no claim to ownership on either of them.

 **Summary:** She wasn't a hero or a savior, not anymore. If she had owed something to the world, she more than paid it back with blood and tears… so why did they take Teddy away from her? And why was everyone so interested in her grandfather?!

 **A/N:** Again, this chapter has yet to be edited, so bear with me. **Zaidee Lighthart** , in all her magnificence,is doing it for me, so soon all the chapters should be edited!My thanks to **Amu4ever** for listening me babble and giving me her opinion on this chapter! ;) Again, part of the dialogues **Lightning Candle** wrote has been incorporated in mine and some words have been changed to fit the story.

 **A/N:** Before you start reading, here some translations you may need:

Si – Yes.

Genova – Genoa.

Camilla! Come stai, mia cara? – Camilla! How are you, my dear?

Che diavolo ci faceva in un bordel- – What the hell was she doing in a broth- (brothel)

C-che cos-? – W-what?

Tumeric è lei! – Tumeric it's her!

Signorina, non può correre qui. – Miss, do not run here.

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 5**

"Were you aware you have a blood relative?"

The seconds keep tickling by and the more the silence stretched, the more Shamal sweated. A quiet Reborn was a dangerous Reborn.

"What. Are. You. Talking. About. Shamal?" Came the reply from the baby hitman, whose usual monotone voice took on a dark edge. "You know very well that I don't have a family."

On the other side of the phone, the doctor mentally cursed. Running a hand through his longish brown hair he decided to just blurt it out, "That's not what _says_ the Red Flag in front of me."

"What Red Flag?"

"CEDEF didn't mail it to you?" Shamal asked, incredulous.

"I'm in Japan training the Vongola heir, dumbass," snorted the toddler, rolling his eyes at the stupidity of his friend, "Why would they send _me_ to search for an unknown when the allied Families and the Vongola's informants can do it for them."

"Right," murmured the Mafioso, scratching his neck. Reborn _was_ the World's Strongest Hitman; unless you wanted someone very dead, you just didn't call him. "Well, they sent it to me _to me_. They are searching for a Flame Active kid..."

"You are bothering me because of a kid?" murmured Reborn, his voice apathetic and unforgiving. The hitman's hand twitched with the need to shot at Shamal and Leon, sensing its master's mood, instinctively turned into a gun. Because he couldn't put a bullet in the doctor's head, Reborn shrugged and shot at Tsuna. The teen was slacking in his math homework anyway.

Ignoring the Vongola heir's screeches on the other side of the phone, Shamal took a fortifying breath; it was now or never. "Her name is Iris Sinclair, Reborn."

Reborn didn't replay immediately. Not long enough to let the teen notice but enough to let Shamal know that what he said left an impact on the toddler.

"Give me a second." Said the killer, putting the call on hold. Reborn turned to Tsuna. The boy was slouching on his desk, one hand tugging at his fluffy hair in frustration and the other gripping his pencil uselessly. He tsked; Tsuna had gotten better, but he still had a long way before becoming a good Mafia Boss. And Reborn didn't accept any less than perfection. "Dame-Tsuna," he snapped in the end, making the teen almost fall from his chair, "When I get back that sheet better be finished. With 85% of the answers correct. Are we clear?"

"HIIIIEEEE!" Screamed Tsuna, staring at his five mostly solved and 95 unsolved questions despairingly. "Reborn, I can't poss-" but his complains were interrupted by a bullet holing in the wall behind him.

"It better be possible. For your health, Dame-Tsuna." The Arcobaleno said, cocking a still smoking gun-Leon.

Not giving attention to the desperate future Boss, Reborn let Leon change back in his chameleon form and jumped on the roof of the Sawada residence. "Still there, Shamal?" asked the toddler taking out his phone from his crisp black jacket.

"Si," confirmed the doctor, "Tsuna hasn't changed, eh?" continued Shamal, a smirk clear in his voice.

Reborn could only sigh half in fondness half in hopelessness, "No, he is still the same…" then the hitman's tone became serious, "Tell me about this Sinclair kid."

"She popped up around days ago, in Milano Malpensa Airport. CEDEF just mailed her IDs." Murmured the Mist, skimming the girl's files with his eyes, "Iris Sinclair, black hair, green eyes. It says here that she is almost eighteen years old but she looks a lot younger. Fourteen, fifteen at most; it wouldn't be the first time a kid has a fake ID to appear older."

"Exactly."

Shamal got pensive and ran a hand over his face trying to stay awake, "You think this is a rouse."

"If she is so young, she isn't mine," commented Reborn with a hint of bitter irony in his voice, "I've been an Arcobaleno for more than 30 years. Even with my charming personality, it's kind of hard to get a girl pregnant with the body of a five year old."

Shamal snorted as a half smile painted his lips. Still, he kept going on, "That's true, but she still has your surname…"

"Like thousands of people around the world, Shamal." Snapped the hitman back, starting to feel frustrated.

"Yes, but how many of them are Flame Active?"

Reborn impassive façade fractured just a second while he reflected about what Shamal was telling him. Was it possible this Iris was really related to him? After all, less than 1% of the World's population acquired Flames Activation and most of them were involved with the Mafia in some way. The only person he knew had a civilian background was Skull, that idiotic lackey of his. And he activated his Flames just because he was almost dying more often than not with his stuntman work. Becoming the Cloud Arcobaleno was the healthiest thing that has ever happened to him; it was more likely for him to die on his bike than due to Mafiosi.

Snorting, Reborn's thoughts turned back to Iris Sinclair. How likely was it for him to be related to a fifteen year old? Not very high. He was a single child but he disappeared when he was pretty young…

' _She is not my daughter, she is too young. She could be my niece… or she could be-'_ The hitman stopped this line of thought before he could even finish it. He was the World's Strongest Hitman, he _wasn't_ sloppy. He had never been _careless._ Not in the job, even less in his relationships! This girl, this Iris Sinclair, wasn't family; there was no way.

"Reborn? Are you still there?" Asked a hesitant Shamal. Even from a couple of continents away, he shuddered as he felt Reborn's laser cold glare for interrupting him. The Sun Arcobaleno closed his eyes and brushed a chubby hand through his spiky black locks. This was all so messed up. "Yes, yes I'm here."

"…So what are you going to do with your possible relative?"

"She isn't my relative!" Fired the hitman back, all his composure lost. In his little hand, the black phone cracked a bit and Leon jumped down from his fedora to settle under Reborn's neck, nuzzling his master in comfort. "If she really was, she would have been smart enough not to waltz around Italy using Sinclair as surname! It's like she is asking for a death penalty!"

The Mist sighed deeply, trying to ignore the troubled quality of the Sun's voice. He knew that if someone had told him that a possible member of his family was running around the Mafia World with a Red Flag on their back, he would have reacted a lot worse than Reborn did. Still, he had to say this, "She wouldn't know if she were a civilian."

The hiss Reborn emitted made his hair stand on end, so full it was of indignation and irritation, but this time, Shamal didn't let himself be cowered by the rage of the Arcobaleno. "Oh, come on, Reborn! You were the worst Casanova ever. Mafia women or civvies held no difference for you."

"If you say it like _that_ you make it seem like I was shameless."

"You _were_ shameless," snorted the doctor, laughing lightly, "but we both know that if the woman was Mafia, everyone would have heard of _a_ relative of yours sooner or later."

Reborn nodded lightly, even if the Mist couldn't see him. He knew what he was talking about. Even before becoming a toddler, he was the World's Strongest Hitman. A Mafia Famiglia would have taken advantage of the power burst of having him tied to them the way a child would have provided; so, if it was true, a civilian woman it was.

Reborn cursed viciously and punched the roof hard, shattering the tiles under his enormous strength. He took a breath trying to control the storm of Sun Flames under his skin that just wanted him to lose control and burn, scorch, _raze to the ground_ everything around him until the world turned right again. Knowing he could just annihilate the whole population of Namimori if he satisfied his desires, Reborn pierced the skin of his palms with his nails until he felt it break. The pain gave him a minimum of self-control. "So, this girl may be related to me, after all."

"The CEDEF won't give up and it won't be long before the rest of the Mafia will know," Shamal warned him, "Iemitsu hasn't exactly been discreet. Anyone hearing her name will assume she has been trained hard enough to be able to shoulder it…"

"They will attack with lethal force, if she opposes them." Concluded Reborn for the Mist. The Sun Arcobaleno gritted his teeth while the toddler's face contorted into a snarl. This time the Young Lion had gone too far; it didn't matter that Iemitsu didn't know of him being Renato Sinclair, it didn't matter if he thought of the best for the Vongola… if Iris _was_ related to him, the CEDEF would need another Boss by the time he finished with him.

"Esatto… so, are you coming back? Or will you call Lal Mirch?"

"And give the CEDEF even more reason to believe she is mine? Don't be stupid, Shamal!" Snorted the baby hitman, rolling his eyes under the shadow the fedora provided in exasperation, "Lal may keep quiet about my identity but her loyalty is still to Iemitsu and CEDEF. If she is asked to hunt Iris down, she will, fellow Arcobaleno or not."

The Mist hummed admitting the other had a point, still he was totally unprepared when Reborn said, "Her last sighting?"

"W-what?"

Reborn rose an eyebrow at the stutter in the usually confident doctor's voice, "Her sighting. Where was she last seen?"

"… Genova?"

"Why did you hesitate?" Shot the Sun Arcobaleno back, now sure the other Mafioso was hiding something, "Shamal, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is exactly wrong." muttered the Mist running a hand through his hair, nervous, "S-she was seen in Genova, like I said…"

Reborn lowered his fedora, shadowing his dangerously glinting eyes, and asked, " _Where_ in Genova, Shamal?"

"…in one of the Houses of Pleasure?"

Silence. Then exploded.

"Che _diavolo_ ci faceva in un bordel-" Started shouting the killer, his Italian accent sharp and unforgiving. He stopped himself halfway, trying to reign his emotions, and then hissed, "Now listen, and listen well, Shamal. You will _find_ her and you will _keep_ her safe!"

"B-but…"

"You heard me," barked the Sun Arcobaleno back. His patience and control had finally snapped, "And while you are there, you will discover if we are kin."

Shamal could only swallow. When Reborn was like that, it was impossible argue with him. He could only murmur his acceptance. Ready to end the call, the doctor was stopped again by the hitman's high-pitched voice, "And Shamal?"

"Y-yes?" Asked the Mafioso, terrified by the serious and lethal tone the Sun Arcobaleno used.

"You better not put your filthy hands on her, pervert. Or else."

Shamal balked at the insinuation, "R-Reborn! I w-wouldn'-" but the call was already disconnected. Looking incredulous at his phone, Shamal let himself fall against his desk with a groan. Damn sadistic midget.

 **oOo**

Iris would have liked to say her meeting with Parodi went as well as the one with Camilla.

In a way it did. There was no blood involved and it took her less than half an hour to know what she wanted. A hell lot better than her first interrogation, that's for sure… But not everything worked out as planned.

"I should have remembered I don't speak Italian," she groaned out aloud, closing behind her the door of her hotel room with a slam.

' _Really, I'm so impulsive sometimes,_ ' she thought combing a hand through her short locks and starting to untangle the knots she found there _. 'I was just so excited. It was my first trail in weeks!'_

So as the Lion she was, she jumped at the opportunity and took Camilla's place.

It was only when she had the man talking to her, with his southern Italian accent and his breath smelling heavily of alcohol, that she realize exactly what she put herself into.

"At least Camilla was right about one thing," she said smirking wickedly, looking down at her disguise, "he really wasn't the brightest around!" Iris took down Camilla's dress and toed out the woman's black stilettos, grimacing at the feeling of throbbing feet walking again parallel to the floor, and she dressed in a light shirt and sweatpants. Her feet literally _sang_ when she put on her dear, old sneakers.

Gracelessly, she let herself fall on the bed thinking about the night before.

 _When the door of the bar swung open, Iris smiled relieved when she recognize the dark haired and dark eyed man that made his way to the private lounge area. The way he staggered through the tables revealed he was well in his cup despite being only midnight._

 _Catching his eyes, she waved a hand and made him sign to join her on the couch. He smiled widely, his cheeks flushed by too much liquor, and ranched his eyes up and down her dress, obviously pleased of what he was seeing. Iris repressed the urge to shudder; at least, it wasn't really her body._

 _Once he reached her, she got up and he hugged her tight. Parodi kissed both her cheeks in greeting and said, "Camilla! Come stai, mia cara?"_

 _She froze._

 _Because –_ Fuck! _– she could understand a word of what he was saying!_

 _Iris looked at him in alarm, Camilla's bright blue eyes huge, and she let out a strangled sound unconsciously. He took a step back and then, frowning, said something else pointing at his throat. The disguised girl almost busted out crying from relief and nodded lightly to him, inwardly thanking whatever deity made Italians such a great gesticulators when talking._

 _Taking a clue from the Mafioso, she sat back in her seat and tried hard to ignore the well-placed hand that was rubbing lightly her thigh in what, she supposed, he thought was seduction. Ignoring the nervous sweat that gathered in her palms, she made a sign to the barman to pour them something to drink as she saw the other escorts do during the night._

 _And drink he did. A lot._

 _She never realize how great of an actress an escort had to be before. All she wanted to do was rip his hand off of her and punching him in the nose but the only thing she could do was smile and nod, trying to seem interested and keep his glass full. In theory, the more he drunk, the less he was probable he asked her a question, busy as he was of boasting and bragging of whatever subject he was talking about._

 _But after ten long and agonizing minutes, even her absurd luck ended and he stopped talking. The tone of his phrase finishing in question. Iris could only blink at him when he repeated his query. And did the only thing she could think in her panicked state._

 _She slammed her lips on his._

 _She didn't even give him time to kiss back that she was off of him and took his arm, dragging him away from the public area and up the stairs again. He let out a perverted giggle and she widened her eyes in disbelief in feeling one of his hand sliding down her back and then wrapping his arm around her waist._

'Pig!' _She thought, gritting her teeth and opening the door of room number 13 with more strength that was necessary. Without sparing a glance to the true sleeping Camilla, Iris threw the intoxicated Mafioso in the room with all the fury of a highly offended woman._

 _Closing the door behind, a malefic grin made its way on her face, "I wanted to do this all night!" she hissed, wand in her hand letting out sparks._

" _C-che cos-?!" Had just time to said Parodi when an overpowered Stunning spell slammed against him and making him crash against the desk behind him. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness, was Camilla's features fade away from the woman in front of him and leaving behind a young teenager girl._

 _Looking at the man at her feet, stunned and tied with more rope that was strictly necessary, Iris rolled her eyes. Really, some people were so predictable._

 _Crossing her arms in front of her, Iris pursed her lips. What to do? Unlike Camilla, who was more a 'victim' of the circumstances, she didn't have a problem in giving the Parodi with Veritaserum; he was a Mafioso, he had worked for the men who kidnapped her godson. He definitely was not a good man._

" _But there is still the language barrier… Even if I dose him with the truth serum, he'll instinctively answer in Italian even if the question is in English…" She commented pensive, pacing up and down the room and totally ignoring the two unconscious persons around her. If only there was someone she trusted who talke-_

 _Snapping her fingers, Iris put a hand in her purse and rummaged through it. Iris's eyes moistened at seeing her father's Two-way Mirror. Hermione repaired it after the fall out of her fifth year but still, she never looked at it again, swearing to herself she would never take it out of her trunk. Not after losing Sirius so foolishly, not when he couldn't answer anymore._

 _Sighing in pain, Iris ran a hand upon the finely carved frame. It was only Andromeda's well reasoning and her need to find Teddy that made her give in and let the woman enchant it again. It's twin was hanged in the living room of Grimmauld Place, always ready in the circumstance they needed to call one another. Taking a fortifying breath, Iris called out, "Andromeda?"_

 _The reflective surface shone for a second and then showed woman calmly reading a book in one of the armchairs, a tea cup levitating next to her. Smiling, she greeted the witch but was took back when Andromeda frowned heavily and shouted at her, "Harriet! I thought something bad happened, reckless child! Why didn't you call me when you arrived in Italy?!"_

 _Iris looked at the floor, embarrassed. "Ehm, sorry?"_

 _But it seemed like Andromeda didn't even hear her. In fact, looking down at the outfit of the teen, the woman's steel eyes narrowed and exclaimed appalled, "For all that is Sacred, girl, what are you wearing?!"_

" _It doesn't matter right now," Iris said shaking her head, stomping down the blush that rose up her cheeks, "You remember when you told me you knew Italian? Well, I need your help."_

Three Veritaserum drops and an Obliviation charm did the rest.

"And if they find strange not remembering anything, they would just assume they were too drunk." Exclaimed the witch, ready to check out the hotel. ' _Or at least, I hope so,'_ she thought, shrugging.

"Tempus," she cast, waving her wand in the air. In front of her materialize the numbers 7.30 and sighing, she realized she had spent all the night washing up and over-thinking again instead of sleep even a little bit. Grabbing her purse, she looked around her room and nodded happily when she confirmed she didn't leave anything _strange_ behind -it really wouldn't do for the hotel maids to find Wizarding objects laying around like that- and she made her way to the reception area.

She stopped at the door, her instincts tingling.

The owner, Carlo, was talking to a couple, a man and a woman. This generally wouldn't seem so strange, after all this was a hotel, but it looked like the kind man was a this close from being sick. His face was very pale and his eyes huge.

"-t you two are asking me it's against the hotel policy, sir." Carlo murmured in Italian while he wrung his hands nervously, eyes jumping around the room. He paled when his eyes met hers. "I could risk losing my hotel keeper license."

The brown haired, grey-eyed man put his hand in the inner pocket of his crisp jacket and gave the portly owner a business card, "I assure you, there will not be problems."

"My partner is right, sir. We just want to talk to the girl." Confirmed the woman next to him, her light brown hair pulled in an elegant chignon and a polite smile on her face.

Carlo swallowed nervously and, with jerky movements, he opened the clients' register. He looked at Iris and then said in English, tone loud and clear. "Miss Sinclair's room is the number 12, fourth flo-"

Iris didn't stay to listen the end of the conversation. She recognized a warning when she heard one. So she did what any sane person would do. She turned around and run up the stairs, as fast as she could.

"Tumeric è lei!" She heard the woman say behind her and immediately a second and a third set of footsteps followed her.

Iris didn't stop.

Surpassing the first floor, she dodged a cleaning trolley and snatched a quick look behind her. Her breath got caught in her throat in seeing the guns her pursuers' hands.

"Miss Sinclair, stop!" Shouted the man, pushing one of the hotel clients out of his way, "We want just talk!"

' _Yeah sure!'_ Iris snorted in her mind, already feeling breathless, green eyes searching frantically for an exit. She may not know who they were or what they wanted but she wasn't totally stupid. She had spent almost a week in a Mafioso infested street. It wasn't hard to draw conclusions.

Feeling her legs burn, she started running down one of the halls. Her eyes blurred with frustrated tears for being unable to just take out her wand and defend herself –or at least have those two far enough to just Apparate out of there without being seen.

"Signorina, non si può correre qui." The voice of a woman echoed next to her. Turning around, she almost laughed in relief in seeing a young maid exit a storage room, the door still wide open. Iris grinned brightly and with a rushed "Sorry!", she pushed the woman away, slamming firmly the door behind her.

A deafening CRACK resounded in the hall.

The two partners put themselves against the wall at the sharp sound, weapons gleaming and Flames burning in their eyes. Grey and purple eyes looked at each other, not bothering with the screaming maid who was running away.

"Oregano, the door," murmured the man, gun ready in his hand, "I'll cover you."

The woman nodded and at her partner sign, she kicked the 'STAFF ONLY' door. The room was empty.

"She escaped…" murmured Oregano, putting back a lock of hair that fell out her hairdo during the chase.

"What?! How is possible? This room has no other exit and we were outside the only door…" Exclaimed incredulous the man, looking around the storeroom; there were only brooms, cleaning detergents and linens. No black haired, green eyed girl.

The woman shrugged, her purple eyes troubled while she sheathed her gun back, "I have no idea, Tumeric… no idea at all…"

Sighing, Tumeric closed the door and looked at his partner. If someone had told him that searching for a civilian teenager was so hard, he would have laughed in their face. Now? Now he would have asked them to join Origano and him in the search because he had no idea on how she kept disappearing like that. "I'll call Boss…" he murmured, taking out his phone.

Oregano nodded. Then she set out to the next flight of stairs, "I'll check her room and see if she left something behind."

 **oOo**

"Here Boss!" Said a man dressed in a grey suit and holding in his hand a fascicle. His face radiated accomplishment, "Our Interception Unit found something interesting!"

Paulo Albani, the Boss of Todd Famiglia, looked at his subordinate and gestured to give him the file. At seeing the name printed on it, he broke out in a bloodthirsty smile and flipped through the pages. And stared.

"This kid isn't related to Sinclair at all.. Look here!" He said pointing a long finger against the photo of a thirty years old Renato Sinclair, gun blazing and infuriating smirk on his lips, and then switching to a bright eyed Iris Sinclair, dorky round glasses and second-hand sweater, "It's like comparing a panther and a kitten!"

His subordinate sweat-dropped and looked at the photos too. His Boss was right, they were like night and day, but he could see the resemblance. They had the same nose, the same lips, the same black curly hair –even if the hitman kept his short but for his sideburns. Their eyes' colour were different but the two Sinclair had both the same shape. They _could_ be related. Or maybe it was just hopeful thinking. In the end Enzo said, "So, what are we going to do, Boss? Kill her?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A Jaded Family**

 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling while Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to the genius of Akira Amano. I make no claim to ownership on either of them.

 **Summary:** She wasn't a hero or a savior, not anymore. If she had owed something to the world, she more than paid it back with blood and tears… so why did they take Teddy away from her? And why was everyone so interested in her grandfather?!

 **A/N:** Again, this chapter has yet to be edited. My thanks to **Zaidee Lighthart** and **Amu4ever** , my dears friends,for hearing me babble throughout the winter! Thank you to all the people who followed, favorited, reviewed or just read 'A Jaded Family'; you are amazing! Lastly, this chapter, in particular, is dedicated to **Ghiro** to whom I offer my best wishes of Happy Birthday- even if more than a month late!

 **A/N:** Before you start reading, here some translations you may find useful:

Genova – Genoa.

Tesoro – Sweetheart.

Napoli – Naples.

Cara – Dear.

Carabinieri – Italian Police Force.

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 6**

Neville didn't curse very often.

He had had a pureblood upbringing for starters and his kind-hearted nature let him see the bright side of life. Still, in being called at the Minister of Magic's office and seeing his stormy frown the young wizard was very pressed in finding a reason not to curse. Only one person could put such an expression in Kingsley Shacklebolt and, for the hundredth time, Neville couldn't help but despair in being Harry's second. The witch had a knack for pissing off powerful people and somehow, even when she wasn't there, she managed in getting the ex-Auror angry.

"What can I do for you, Minister?" He asked, tone already resigned. Even if it was just because Harry wasn't there, the sooner he got shouted at, the sooner he could get some sleep. He never realized just the amount of work that girl did; it was no wonder she had such deep bags under her eyes.

The Minister didn't answer, instead he slid a crumpled newspaper article in front of him. In contrast to the bright yellow colour of the man's robes, it was easy to see the heavy air of danger that surrounded the older man like a thick winter cloak. Neville wearily straightened it, his gaze immediately zeroing on the title printed across the top in large black letters.

 **WHERE IS OUR SAVIOR, HARRY POTTER?**

The ex-Gryffindor bit his lower lips while his hazel eyes shifted uneasily.

It wasn't the first article about Harry's disappearance. People were afraid for their Savior's well-being. Some were starting to wonder if someone of You-Know-Who's regime had managed to kidnap the girl without the public knowing. The Auror Corps were working hard to bring all the syncopates to justice but sadly, it was a long and tedious process and that didn't help to smooth the community's worries.

"Isn't it a great question?" Kingsley muttered tapping his wand lightly against his desk's surface, his tone hard and unforgiving. "I asked myself the same after the first five owls that come back with their letters unopened."

At this, the young wizard winced. Visibly.

"When I told Potter to take time for herself I didn't mean for her to disappear from the British Wizarding World!" The Minister hissed out, torn between irritation and frustration. That girl was as stubborn as a Hippogriff!

"…I haven't seen her at the DMLE since June," the Longbottom Heir remarked lightly, fully aware that Shacklebolt was an inch from jinxing him to hell.

The wizard's black eyes narrowed visibly and he pursed his lips suspicious. He understood why Neville and all the DA members were so protective of young Harriet. The girl deserved friends who didn't stay with her for her fame after all that happened… but Merlin, his office was literally overflowing with letters of 'concerned' wizards and 'frantic' witches who demanded to know about their Savior's well-being. In the end, Kingsley sat down behind his desk, offering a chair to the young Auror in front of him, and whispered tiredly, "I told her to wait..."

"You can't expect she sits tight while her godson is in danger," replayed the blond with a snort. "It's not in her nature…"

Shacklebolt groaned out aloud and rubbed his temples trying to starve off his incoming headache. That girl was going to be the death of him, he was sure. Muttering darkly, he took out his wand and levitated a bottle of Firewhiskey and two glasses from his cabinet to his desk. Already he was feeling the need to drink alcohol and it wasn't even ten in the morning.

Neville almost burst out laughing at the exasperated expression on the Minister's face. If there was one thing he had learned about Harriet Potter -it was that Trouble loved to find her and she enjoyed leaving Chaos in her wake – be it in the form of a destroyed Goblin Bank or a mental breakdown!

Oddly, even knowing that your life couldn't be more in danger than being near Harry, it never stopped someone from trying to follow her. And not just because she was the Girl-Who-Lived, or the Woman-Who-Conquered.

Strictly speaking, she wasn't the easiest person to be friend with. Her upbringing made her girl terribly closed off; all hard edges and cutting tongue. At Hogwarts, her fury was something legendary and her revenge terrifying. Still, it was her inflexible morality and loyalty that made her irreplaceable. Harry's natural charisma and protectiveness was like a magnet; you couldn't help but want to be noticed by the girl, to have her brilliant green eyes firmly planted on you. Whether you liked it or not.

Before meeting Harriet Potter, Neville had never felt so valued, so appreciated. And he knew he wasn't the only one feeling this way.

That was why the Wizarding World had followed a seventeen years old to war and afterward, why the DA still fought for her, even when they could just rest and heal. She had been firm and unbending when it was needed, had held her head high and back unbending in front of her murderer. Now it was their turn. They would protect her so that her body would never be carried in front of them lifeless and cold. Again.

"You'll get used to it." He replied, after his musings, the ex-Gryffindor. Because really, there was nothing else one could do. If Harry decided something nothing could stop her; you lived better once you accepted this hard and unforgiving truth.

"The trials will start at the beginnings of September," commented the dark skinned man, switching topics.

At this remark, Neville raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Dawlish already has his cases ready for court?"

"Young Bones helped our new Head of the DMLE."

"Ah," said Neville smiling widely. Susan became a force of the nature after her aunt's death, and not just with her wand. The late Lady Bones instilled a firm sense of justice in the girl and her Hufflepuff nature made her one of the most honest and straightforward Auror of the Department. No Death Eater would pay they way out of Azkaban under the red head's watch.

"Harriet needs to be there. She has to," continued Kingsley serious, after a pause. "The Wizarding World needs to see her there."

The blond nodded frowning lightly, well aware that the people needed to see their _Savior_ more than anything else. "I'll remind her next time we talk…"

"So you _do_ know where she is!"

"After Andromeda scolded her, Harry contacted us all," Neville chuckled, taking out the DA golden galleon from his Auror uniform and flipping it to the older wizard. "She should be on her way to a little village in Germany."

Kingsley swore under his breath and gulped down the rest of the amber liquid in his glass. "Just what we needed after Voldemort! An international diplomatic incident!"

The blond stifled an amused smile. "That's not necessarily true, Minister. Harry can be discreet when she wants. Never had a problem sneaking in and out Hogwarts during our school years!"

"…Do I even want to know what the hell she is doing there?"

"Do you?" Asked the Auror suddenly feeling uncomfortable. There was a thing called 'Plausible Deniability', after all.

Shacklebolt closed his eyes and sighed. Neville was right, some things were better not known. "Never mind. Just owl me when I have to do some damage control." And how sad was it that at his age he was relegated at cleaning up the messes of a tiny teenage girl? Even if said teenage girl was the Savior of the Wizarding World and it was for rescuing Tonks' little Teddy. At the thought of his friend's son, the wizard's humor darkened and looked at the seventeen years old in front of him with guilt filled eyes. "I presume she discovered who kidnapped him."

The boy nodded, frowning heavily in his glass of Fire-whiskey. "She had to loosen up a couple of tongues in Italy but they did tell her their names."

"…Did they give her problems?"

Neville smirked amused at the man's dark tone. Even as a Minister, the wizard was still a dangerous and ruthless Auror at heart. "Nothing that couldn't be solved with a bit of imagination and a lot of luck!" He chipped brightly. Potter Luck was something their group of friends liked to joke around but nonetheless true. Harry's life was almost an eternal cycle of an amazing Good Luck followed by an incredible Bad Luck.

His friend had just found the place where that Mafia Family was keeping her godson. Hopefully, nothing would go wrong now.

 **oOo**

Shamal looked lazily at Hotel Giacchini, last known place Miss Iris Sinclair was seen in Genoa.

Taking in the anonymous black cars and smartly dressed people running around, the doctor could not help but whistle lightly, impressed. Iemitsu and his men sure were quick when they wanted.

"But not quick enough!" He murmured smirking lightly. His contacts confirmed that the kid had pulled a fast one on the right and left hand of the CEDEF's Boss – a bear of a man and a beautiful, young lady.

' _Little civilian girl, my ass!'_ He snorted in his mind taking a cigarette to his lips and breathing deeply. If this little vanishing act didn't speak about Reborn's terrifying genes, nothing could. The two of them even had the same flare for drama. There was no need for a fucking DNA test! No one could make a fool out of the Young Lion like Reborn… "And his kin, apparently!" He snickered delightfully, exhaling the smoke. "Just wait till Xanxus and the Varia hear about this!"

Shamal smiled widely, throwing the half-smoked cigarette on the ground and putting his hands back in his suits jacket pockets. He hummed lightly while he walked down toward one of the less frequented alleys, an enthusiastic spring in his steps. It wasn't his fault CEDEF arrived at the hotel before him and now he had to search in the only other place the girl was seen. _Really_.

The sleazy doctor grinned lecherously in seeing the signboard of the famed House of Pleasure.

"Kid," the Mist practically sang. "You are the best!"

.

.

.

"I already told you! There was no green eyed, black haired teenage girl here last night!" Snapped a beautiful woman, a heavy frown marring her otherwise flawless face. "I would remember it! Good little girls don't associate with places like the House!"

"That's not what the bartender said, tesoro!" Hummed lightly Shamal, forcing his eyes from the long legs displayed by the short blue dress the escort was wearing. The blond was really a sight to behold for his poor, tired eyes. "One of our men saw you two talking. Getting in this same room together…"

Camilla paled heavily under his stare. The implication of his words felt like a noose that was slowly -but inexorably- tightening around her neck.

"…Still I believe you." He murmured while his keen eyes scrutinized her panicked expression thoroughly.

"W-what?"

"But of course!" Shamal chuckled, smiling genially while a glint shined in his gaze. "A beautiful lady like you knows better than lie to a Mafioso… Right?" He questioned inclining his head lightly.

The escort nodded while she swallowed with difficulty. She felt tears picking the corner of her eyes. For all his perverted behavior, she could see very well this man wasn't like the usual clientele who hang out the House. This man could be very dangerous when he wanted.

"My beautiful Camilla, it's not hard to make someone forgets something!" Shamal explained with nonchalance leaning back against his chair and closing his eyes lazily. "Still, there are ways to retrieve memories!"

"Y-you want my permission to rummage through my brain?!" She squeaked, incredulous.

"Don't worry!" He chipped almost carelessly while digging around his pockets. He took out a mechanical mosquito and showed it to her, proud. "My dear Angela won't hurt you one bit!"

Camilla gulped uneasily. His voice was playful and bright but she could hear the serious undertone it carried, loud and clear. There wasn't another option nor did she have a choice. Not really. He would do it with or without her consent. Shivers ran down her back when his gaze fall on her again. It wasn't the usual look she received, the lustful gazes men usually gave her. It was the gaze of a man who found something extremely interesting to study… like a test or an experiment. It made her skin crawl.

"…I wonder how exactly she did it." He mumbled to himself under his breath, intrigued. "To block memories so completely… That's not an amateur job…"

CEDEF never stated what kind of Flame she was, just that Iris Sinclair was a Flame Active. _'And what a talented Mist she turned out to be...'_ Shamal frowned lightly wondering why such secrecy. It would have been a lot easier knowing that they were dealing with an Illusionist.

At first, he had thought Camilla was just a great liar but now… none of the tale-telling signs of deceitfulness showed on her pale face or in her blue eyes. The escort had her memories erased without her knowledge and this was alarming. He could count on the tips of the fingers of one hand how many people had the skills and the flames power to do something like that and still have fingers left. Of all of them, just one had the medical knowledge to perform such a delicate procedure. Him.

' _It seems not anymore,'_ he thought looking at the worried woman in front of him. Her blue eyes were frantically scanning the room, stopping at the window more than once in wonder. Shamal almost wanted to snort out loud. As if a civilian could escape a trained assassin.

The doctor masterfully ignored the little voice in his head which commended on the incredible escaping ability of another civilian girl.

The man released his Flames infused mosquito before she could even turn around, the paralytic agent in it cutting off every chance for her to move. Falling on her knees in front of him, he lightly pressed his fingertips against her temples.

' _Sometimes I hate my job,'_ he thought, looking straight in her terrified blue eyes. Steeling himself, Shamal let his Mist flames pervade the frontal lobe of her brain and rifle through her limbic system. When he 'erased' Reborn's memory he chose to stop the biochemistry between the synapses of the neurons in the occipital lobe; basically, even if the Arcobaleno knew he had a life before being Reborn, he just could not remember it. The work on Camilla was very different. She hadn't known to have forgotten something, hadn't realized that her recollection ability had been compromised.

"Iris suppressed hours of Camilla's life," the doctor exclaimed, incredulous. His eyes shone bright indigo and his smile got sharp at the new challenge. He could not destroy the suppressors on her memories without potentially liquefy the escort's brain but, sure as hell, he could weaken them enough to get the answers he needed.

Feeling the metaphorical walls around the woman's mind waning, Shamal retreated from her psyche, but not before leaving behind enough Mist Flames to have her responsive at his questioning.

"Let's start again," he said, wiping the sweat collected on his forehead with the back of his hand. "Did you meet a green eyed, black haired teenage girl last night?"

"Yes," muttered a blank-eyed Camilla.

Shamal's smiled brightly. He really was the best doctor the Mafia could offer. "Did she said what was her name?" The blond nodded lightly, whispering the word Iris. "Good. What did she want from you, Camilla?"

"Information."

The doctor frowned. "About?"

Camilla's monotonous voice faltered for a second and Shamal's gaze sharpened. Only a strong emotion could cause her to fight his illusions. Fear or love, usually. _'And Camilla has no love for Iris Sinclair,'_ he thought while he pumped more Flames into the girl.

"Estraneo Famiglia's new hideout."

Shamal blinked a couple of times. He had to have heard it wrong. He had to. Because otherwise, they got it all wrong. It wasn't the Mafia that was searching for the girl.

"Iris Sinclair is hunting us down…" He concluded dumbfounded.

 **oOo**

The sound of a beeping machine was the first thing Iris registered while she was gently pulled toward consciousness. Soon, it was joined by an odor she was quite familiar, however unwilling. The stomach-turning smell of anti-bacterial cleaner.

' _Healing wing, '_ her mind supplied unhelpfully. She slowly lifted her heavy eyelids and cursed at the bright light that almost blinded her. Everything was just so white and disjointed.

Hearing a rustling sound, she turned her head towards it, fighting against the stiff muscles of her aching body. Though the edges of her flickering vision, she met the kind brown eyes of a middle-aged woman.

"I'm so happy you are awake Miss Sinclair," she murmured in her heavily Italian-accented English, taking care to keep her voice low. For this, Iris was extremely grateful. Her head was killing her. "We were afraid you had fallen into a coma. You had lost so much blood…"

"W-where?" The young witch coughed out with a rough voice.

The woman, now identified as a nurse, held a plastic cup to her lips and Iris let the cool water smooth her parched throat. Murmuring a 'thanks', Iris dropped back against the fluffy pillow and let the woman adjust her light sheet, still conscious of her splitting headache. The gesture was warmly maternal and, for a second, she imagined she was back at The Burrow with a fussing Mrs Weasley. She missed the older witch, a lot.

Helping the girl to put her spectacles on, the nurse smiled. "You are at Antonio Cardelli Hospital, dear," she explained, stroking lightly the witch' tousled black hair. "A couple of young men found you unconscious and heavily bleeding in a park."

Iris nodded lightly, vaguely remembering being rescued by a couple of hysterical muggles. At the time, she was almost bleeding to death but she still had the wits to calm them enough to give them her fake name before passing out cold.

"You had been very lucky they found you… Napoli is not exactly a safe city for those who don't know it."

Iris almost snorted out loud while a sardonic smirk curled her chipped lips. Lucky wasn't exactly a word she would use. A word no Potter would lightly use.

"It's almost like the world was out to get us..." She commented under her breath, rolling her eyes in exasperation. She sipped lightly another couple of times before the nurse words finally registered in her mind and her disorientation receded. _Completely_.

Because really, she may only have primary level of muggle education but even she knew Naples was in S _outh_ Italy while Genoa was in _Northern_ areas of the country!

' _How the_ bloody _hell I apparated all the way to Naples without killing myself?!'_ She thought half incredulous, half frustrated. It was no wonder she felt like she had been run over by a herd of hippogriffs! Looking down her aching body, she let out a relieved sigh in seeing that all her limbs were still there, even if numbed by whatever medicine she had been injected with. Still, it was her right side what she was really worried about.

She remembered quite well how her rushed apparition -one performed for the first time without the use of her wand- partially splinced her flesh from the hip to her low stomach in a macabre spiral of ripped flesh. Nothing deep enough to be of true concern; but it would leave one hell of scar even with the help of some Essence of Dittany.

Following her gaze, the nurse put a wrinkled hand on hers. The contrast between the woman's sun-kissed skin and her pale one made Iris feel more sickly and fragile than she already was. "I'm sorry something like that happened to you, cara," the nurse murmured, saddened by the conditions of the girl's body. "All these scars…"

Touching lightly the bandage under her hospital gown, Iris swallowed with difficulty. Usually, her scars were not a topic she struggled to talk about. She wasn't ashamed of them, far from it; they showed her devotion to the people she loved, her perseverance in fighting for what she believed in. Every wizard or witch who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts had his own set of scars and every single one of them wore them with pride.

Still, some of her marks made her uncomfortable. Made her loved ones uncomfortable. Simply because they reminded them of their failings and her own impotence.

' _Certain things that are better never to be talked about!_ ' She exclaimed mentally, clenching her fists around the bed sheet. She hadn't needed pity when she was a child, she needed it even less now. _'Especially by well-meaning muggles…'_

That's why she had casted on herself a bunch of glamour charms the second she got off that blasted plane. Apparently, her fainting spell destroyed all her hard work in remain an anonymous teenager and returned her in a heavily battered girl.

"…So you have to wait for the police to take your statement."

Iris blinked a couple of time. Her mental ranting made her totally zone out what the kind nurse was telling her. Clearing her throat lightly, she said, "Pardon?"

"The Carabinieri," the woman repeated smiling at the sheepish expression painted on the girl's face, "will be here soon for you to give your statement. Not finding your papers and with your history of abuse, the Hospital had to report your presence to the nearest Police Station."

Iris' smile froze one her face while she nodded mechanically. Her sluggish mind was running at the speed of light. She had to get out of there and fast.

Seeing the paleness on the other's face and interpreting it as pain, the nurse pushed a bottom on the bedside table. A little dosage of morphine ran from the solution bag hanged upon her bed in her vein.

"Don't worry, Miss Sinclair. The police officers are usually quite kind, you have nothing to worry about!" And with that, the woman left the room closing the door firmly behind her.

Already feeling the numbing effect of the drug, Iris cursed darkly and ripped the hypodermic needle from her inner elbow. Already a purplish bruise was forming there from her rough treatment; she easily ignored it.

"Nothing to worry about, she said!" Exclaimed the Girl-Who-Lived getting out from under the covers and putting her wobbly feet on the cold floor. "Nothing but that I am currently under a false identity and my charmed passport is still in a Mafiosi-infested hotel in Genoa! For Merlin's beard, I am still considered a terrorist!"

Struggling with her unresponsive arms, she pushed herself upward and started stumbling toward the end of her bad. Hanging from her footboard and returned untouched by its charms, her Godmother's purse was magnificently insignificant and immaterial in the eyes of curious muggles. Iris had never seen a better view.

The witch took out a light t-shirt and a pair of black shorts and put them on, taking care of not disturb her still bleeding wound. Her hand itched from taking out the Essence of Dittany too. However, something eerie similar to Hermione's voice shouted at her from the recesses of her drugged mind about the dangers of mixing muggle's medicine with the wizarding ones. Resigned to suffer twelve hours of pain, she pulled out her wand holster and strapped it to her arm, the charms infused in its leather making it disappear from sight.

"I really should get out of here soon," muttered the girl, fixing the purse across her shoulder and putting on her shoes. The police wouldn't take long to arrive and those Mafiosi in Genoa were still searching for her…

She conceded herself a second to gather her bearing anyway. The thought of those criminals' interest in her was a little bit too unsettling. Giving into her paranoia, she took out of her bag Sirius' penknife and she secured it against her left thigh with a transfigured piece of sheet. Satisfied that the elaborate handle was easily within reach, she glamoured it invisible and sheathed her wand away.

What happened next, she blamed it on the meds running into her system; they _must_ have affected her senses and lowered her general level of awareness. Because really, that was the only excuse she could think of for not realizing someone had entered her hospital room till it was too late. Either way, Moody would be so ashamed of her.

"Iris Sinclair?"

Expecting to see a doctor, Iris turned around. Just to be face to face with the muzzle of a gun.

"My Boss, Don Albani of the Todd Family, would be _very_ interested in talking to you." Continued the smartly dressed man in front of her, a fake smile on his face. "Please do follow me." And he removed the safety catch, too.

Yeah, it was all the drugs' fault.


	7. Chapter 7

**A Jaded Family**

 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling while Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to the genius of Akira Amano. I make no claim to ownership on either of them.

 **Summary:** She wasn't a hero or a savior, not anymore. If she had owed something to the world, she more than paid it back with blood and tears… so why did they take Teddy away from her? And why was everyone so interested in her grandfather?!

 **A/N:** Again, this chapter has yet to be edited. My thanks to **Zaidee Lighthart** and **Amu4ever** , my betas,and **MiraAdaraBlack** , my lovely friend, for helping me write this chapter! Thank you to all the people who followed, favorited, reviewed or just read 'A Jaded Family'; sorry for the long wait!

 **A/N:** Before you start reading, here some translations you may find useful:

Campania – One of the 20 regions of Italy.

Galleria – Gallery.

Ragazzina – Girl.

Le brave bambine dovrebbero starsene a casa, non giocare a fare la Mafiosa – Good girls should stay at home, not playing Mafioso.

Dì addio ragazzina – Say goodbye kid.

Faranno meglio a superare la prova domani – They better pass the text tomorrow.

Freiburg. Sudlich Deutschland – Freiburg. South Germany.

Dannazione – Damn it.

Cristo, ha il caratteraccio di Reborn – Christ, she has Reborn's temper.

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 7**

There were some undeniable truths about the famed Girl-Who-Lived.

Her forehead was marred by a lightning bolt scar, the result of surviving Voldemort's Killing Curse.

If she were born male, she would be an almost perfect carbon copy of her late father, with only Lily Potter's startling emerald eyes as the most prominent difference.

And she had one hell of a temper. One that could burn hotter than an inferno or bite sharper than an ice bite. Both equally dangerous, reflecting the two ambivalent natures of her personality. The impulsiveness of a Gryffindor and the ruthlessness of a Slytherin.

Looking back at her reflection in the mirror, she was almost startled by the deadly glint that shone in the green of her eyes. Their Avada Kedavra colour was practically shining with fury.

She had made the error of growing complacent, she had forgotten that not all the muggles were like her aunt and uncle: cruel but, in the end, cowards... That just because they didn't have magic, it didn't mean they were helpless or vulnerable. Even after discovering some of them had Flames, she hadn't bothered too much, sure of her magical ability, of her instincts and her wand. What a fool she had been.

' _Without realizing it, I behaved like a pureblood confronting the concept of Muggle for the first time,'_ the girl snorted lightly in her mind, full aware of her hypocrisy. Living in the Wizarding World really narrowed down her views; she didn't remember being this dumb when she lived full time at the Dursleys…

Iris fingered lightly the fine mark that circled her neck with a grimace, the dark bruise standing out sharply against the pale white of her skin.

"I have learned my lesson, alright," she muttered bitterly adjusting the turtleneck back in its place. Her first meeting with a Mafia Boss didn't go so well.

.

.

.

" _Iris Sinclair…" Hummed the middle-aged man in front of her satisfied, taking off the jacket of his suit and sitting behind his expensive writing table. His gun holster was easily within reach just against his left side. "I have to admit I expected something_ more _when I heard of you."_

 _Iris fisted her hands in frustration. She never took well of being taunted, especially by conceited, pompous men. Fudge had done a terrible job at reducing her endurance in that regard to be nearly non-existent. Not that the ever-changing opinion of her classmates helped made it any better, mind you._

 _It was only her throbbing side that she stopped her from retaliating. That and she still had enough sense of self-preservation left._ 'But what I would give to just spit in his face!' _She thought scowling slightly at the Mafia Boss._

 _Still, years of dealing with Draco Malfoy_ did _teach her something._

"… _And you are?" She asked lazily, drawing out her words in an amazing impression of her favorite bushy-haired witch._

 _And as expected, the Mafioso found himself floundering a bit. "Y-you don't know_ me _?"_

 _Iris suppressed a smirk at the outraged expression painted on his tanned face and pinned her bored gaze on his fuming one. "Should I?"_

" _I am Paulo Albani, Boss of the Todd Family!" He snapped back, slamming his fist against the mahogany desk and throwing all his paperwork onto the office's floor. "My Famiglia is the bloodiest Family in the Mafia World!"_

" _Doesn't ring a bell…" Iris commented blinking her big, green eyes while a light smile curled the side of her mouth. Innocence practically_ shone _out of her and Albani spluttering was worth every single ounce of pain she was in._

 _Unfortunately, her victory was short lived. The Mafioso regained his bearing quickly and a bloodthirsty glint made its way in his dark coloured eyes. "Under my command, I have hundreds of Fames Actives! I would not take our power and the position you are in lightly, little girl!"_

 _He was right, obviously. The black car she had been shoved in took her somewhere outside Naples, far into the rural Campania, till a seventeenth-century estate. The pale yellow walls of the mansion and the colorful garden would have taken her breath away if it hadn't been for all the Mafiosi who were there._

'And that I'm currently kidnapped,' _she commented in her mind as an after-thought, while frustration darkened her gaze. Still, it was another thing that worried her more._

 _Flames._

 _This strange ability that the Mafia elites seemed to be able to bend and control at their own whims. During Parodi's interrogation, Andromeda tried to pry as much information as possible from the man but the results were aggravatingly lacking. He didn't have that ability so he wasn't privy of the Flames' secrets, knowing only the basics of it from what he heard during his job as Mafioso freelancer._

'Apparently, only those who classify as 'Flames Actives' are admitted in the Family upper tier. And only six of them have regular contact with their boss…' _She gave him a tight-lipped smile, crossing her arms in front of her while a stubborn expression made its way on her face._ 'All this remind me a little bit too much of Tom's Inner Circle and his elitist crap…'

 _Still, Iris couldn't help but think about the Estraneo who died in her basement and his freezing powers; obviously whatever were these flames abilities, one thing she was sure. They were dangerous; just how much she didn't know._

 _Biting her bottom lip, the Girl-Who-Lived mentally cursed. She was totally unprepared for this and his two thugs in the office, she would be a bloody smear on the floor before she could even think of escaping. The cruel air around Albani left no doubt._

 _Almost like he could read her mind, the Mafioso smirked triumphantly and planted himself_ _in front of her, moving away from his leather chair._

 _Her eyes didn't leave his own the whole time and Albani smiled at seeing the familiar glint that shone in them. She was Sinclair's, alright._

 _When one of his men told her she was in Napoli, in his own Territory, he was sure it was fate. A sign that he would have been able to wash away the shame on him and his Family with the blood of the hitman's kin. The Mafioso's lip curled sadistically while he took the girl's chin between his callused fingers. The Sun may have been working under contract for some Famiglia or another, but that day of thirty years ago, Renato Sinclair massacred almost half of Todd Mafiosi with his Chaos Shot._

'Within a day, Sinclair managed to cripple my Family,' _the Mafioso snarled in his mind._ 'It took me decades to bring it back in its rightful place!'

 _He was sure. Killing the girl would be the right compensation for his Famiglia's pain; however, that was before feeling the untamed, unrestricted Sky Flames that burned brightly in the Sinclair child's soul._

 _And a Sky is always useful in a Mafia Family._

" _Come with me," he said in the end, already walking towards the door and Iris had no choice but to follow him._

 _He led her through the airy halls of his villa and tastefully decorated rooms, always keeping her near enough to grab her if necessary but otherwise ignoring her presence. Her keen eyes jumped from place to place, taking in the numerous smartly dressed Mafiosi and women lounging on expensive sofas or near the ornamented fireplaces, their gazes firmly planted on her. More than ready to defend their Boss and to kill her._

 _Albani showed no sign to stop the tour of his house, steering her through the patio and up three flights of stairs, parading the luxury and the finery into which his Family lived._

 _And really, she would have been impressed, if she didn't know that everything she was seeing was the result of criminal operations. Or if she didn't feel like she could faint at any minutes._

 _In the end, Albani stopped in front of an extremely ornate double door and, with a grand gesture, he opened the way to the Galleria. The high windows let the morning sunlight illuminate the golden frames of the paintings and marble statues and busts between them. It was such a difference from the dark and oppressive Gallery at Grimmauld Place._

" _Close the door behind you. No one will disturb us," he ordered, striding confidently into the room. Watching him stop in front of one of the portraits at the center of the Gallery, perfectly relaxed in his pinstriped pants and crisp white shirt, Iris held back the need to sneer. She never took well to be ordered._

 _Her fist clenched tight and she mechanically turned around. It was almost painful for her to suppress the instinct not to leave her back open to an enemy, especially when she was so injured. She wrapped her trembling, clammy palm around the door handle and paused._

 _Albani was wrong. She couldn't fight - at least not in that condition- but it didn't mean that she was helpless._

 _She concentrated on the comforting weight of her disillusioned wand. She could just imagine it, its holly point just a few inches from the lock. The girl opened up in a sharp tight-lipped smile; she closed the door and intonated loud and clear in her mind, '_ Colloportus! _'_

 _She felt her magic strain lightly for using a non-verbal spell so soon after her impromptu apparition; still, the gentle squelching sound of the door locking was music to her ears. The subsequent Muffilato Charm that she casted, was like a reflex; with a bit of luck, it would protect the room from noisy Mafiosi, just like it did with noisy Death Eaters._

'…At least these charms don't need wand movements to work,' _she thought while her face screwed up in pain and sweat dripped down the back of her head._

" _Why are you taking so long, girl?" Demanded the Mafioso, looking impatiently at her, "it doesn't take a genius to close a door! Come here."_

 _In the end, the portrait she found herself in front of was that of a man- one, in her opinion, who was quite dark. She almost reminded her of Sirius' ancestors. The resemblance wasn't something you could find in their features but instead, in the arrogant look and the bloodthirsty cruelty that was so well painted in the portraits of both families._

 _Her eyes fell on the only colorful splash in caravans. On the man's right hand was a beautiful signet ring with a glowing orange stone set in it. The same gem which now shone on her kidnapper's finger._

" _That is the Famiglia Todd's Sky ring," said the Mafioso playing with the aforementioned ring. "It has been inherited by all the Boss of the Family."_

" _A nice trinket," she commented, moving away from the paintings and walking backward towards one of the windows. She had no intention of keeping him out in her line of sight. Not now that she was so close to escaping. "A bit girly, maybe."_

 _Instead of taking offense, Albani burst out laughing. "You are irreverent! Not many can say of ever been able to be honest with me.."_

" _I've never been good at holding my tongu-"_

" _I've always been good at cutting them," commented carelessly the Italian while a chilling smile stretched on his face. "But this is not why you are here for."_

" _And for what then?" Iris snapped back, while her feverish green eyes challenge his black ones._

" _For payback. Because we all inherit our family's sins," declared the Todd Boss who looked amused at her with a rose eyebrow. "And you, my dear, inherited those of Renato Sinclair."_

"… _My grandfather?" She deadpanned pushing a sweaty lock of hair behind her ear. This conversation was going so wrong so fast that it wasn't even funny anymore._

" _Grandfather? Well, what an interesting news," he hummed intrigued for a second before his face morphed in a mask of cruelty. His whole countenance was mocking her now."Never thought that he would leave his profession as an assassin for hire to have a family."_

 _Iris blinked owlishly a couple of times, stupefied. The blood rushed in her veins and the pounding in her head intensified, sharpening her dizziness. In stark contrast of that was happening to her tired body, her emotions became numb. Because,_ really… _"…What?"_

" _From your expression, I imagine you had no idea," Albani's voice had a faraway tone, almost like he wasn't really talking to her. In that very moment, she realized he wasn't just dangerous. He was plain crazy. "You know, when I heard of your existence, of your relationship with the hitman Sinclair, I just wanted to bath the walls of my mansion with your blood. Just like he did with the blood of my Family's members…"_

"… _And what made you change your mind?" She half-heartedly said, keeping him firmly in her visual range and preparing to take out her wand. He seemed to have frozen in his place; only his dark eyes gave him away of his inner turmoil flashing with a myriad of emotions_ _that she couldn't identify. Then he pinned her with his unforgiving stare, not acknowledging the meters that divided them._

" _Sky Flames. Your Sky Flames, to be precise."_

" _I have no idea of what you are talking about," she answered back airy, shifting her weight. She needed space,_

" _Sky Flames the ability to bond other at yourself and your will. To bind them so close that they can't even think about leaving without your consent, even less living without you in their lives. It's called Harmonization," he explained, letting his eyes glow a dim orange while his Sky Flames lighted up his family ring. He grinned satisfied at the hesitation reflected in her paled face. "Have you ever wondered why people never seem to be able to leave you alone?"_

" _You know nothing about my life," she snapped back, putting more distance between her and his crazed countenance. After all, she worked too damn hard on her relationships with her friends to listen to a Mafioso of all the people to call into question. And they genuinely cared about her…. didn't they?_

" _It's not your fault, you know. Some people are just made to rule," Albani said shrugging good-naturedly, visibly seeing her torment. "I can help you…" He concluded extending a hand toward her like he was just making her a favor and not destroying everything she believed in. Everything she had fought against._

 _Her refusal resounded loud and clear in the Galleria._

" _It's your final decision?" the man whispered in a deadly tone._

 _The stubborn set of her jaw and the blazing resolution in her eyes was all the answer he needed. And he pulled out his gun._

 _His first bullet smashed against her shield with unbelievable force, making it tremble dangerously. The second shot shattered completely her protection, leaving behind only a light orange trail before blowing a hole in the wall behind her._

 _The Protego Charm had been pierced. By a muggle weapon._

'What the hell..?' _She through taking cover behind the nearest furniture. She shook her head, trying to suppress the shivers that ran down her spine. Another two shots echoed in the large room and she blinked in seeing a painting and a chair literally petrify in front of her. Before they shattered to pieces._

" _Like I said, Sky Flames has the Harmonization ability. They are the glue of the Elements, the perfect balance. Ergo, everything they touch when in attack mode petrify at contact!"_

 _Iris cursed viciously and rolled out of the way of another rain of bullets and hiding behind a sofa._

" _You are hurt, ragazzina, just give in," he stated, a smirk curling his lips and walking toward her. He seemed without a care in the world. "I promise I won't hurt you… too much."_

 _She blinked in surprise while she took notice of her blood-stained t-shirt. And she went pale. Her magic was already straining, almost drained and it physically hurt to force it from her aching core to her wand. The opening of her wound was not what she needed. Iris knew she had to run, that it was the only occasion she would ever have; so she greeted her teeth, gripped her wand tightly, and launched herself toward the Mafia Boss._

" _Lumos Maxima!" She shouted, bringing her wand directly in front of Alberti's line of sight and covering her eyes with her free hand. A big, bright sphere of light erupted from the tip of her wand, just for it to be twirled around her fingers and hit him squarely in the chest with a Stunning Spell. The red light sped against the muggle and he was thrown violently into to air before being smashed on the ground._

 _Without missing a beat, the young witch pointed her wand to his gun. That thing gave her enough problems. She could safely say she never casted an Evanesco more satisfying._

 _Smiling lightly, she wiped a hand down her face, sighing heavily. Her side pained her and sweat clung her shirt to her skin._

" _I have to get out of here," she muttered, hissing lightly at the dizziness that washed over her. She couldn't go back from where she came from, so out of the window it was. At this point, breach the Statute of Secrecy was the last of her problems. Those Mafiosi were obviously not normal muggles. Magic and Flames probably were considered the same thing by the Italian Ministry of Magic._

" _Or they are too scared of the Mafia to even investigate what's happening here," she snorted rummaging through her still disguised purse. The familiar weight of her broom was soon in her hand._

 _The deep chuckle that interrupted her reverie made her blood run cold._

 _The girl numbly turned to face the Todd Boss. The Firebolt clattered at her feet as her fingers loosened their grip around it. She shook her head in total disbelief. It wasn't possible._

" _You know, little girl," coughed the man out, slowly sitting back up and pressing a hand against his chest. "It is such a shame your Grampa didn't take the time to teach you about Flames."_

He was getting up _._

 _He was bloody getting. Up. From a Stunning Spell._

 _ **Without**_ _being Revived._

" _That thing almost knocked me out. Almost," he continued, brushing invisible dust from his pants and leveling her with a seemly amused stare. However, his black eyes were glinting darkly. "But Flames increase the human body resistance and permit to perform well beyond the normal potential… Let me show you!"_

 _Albani whipped his wrist -in a motion very common for a magic user but totally unusual for a muggle- and something thin and string-like shot out from under his sleeve and flew toward her._

 _Before she could fire another spell at him, Iris felt her words choke on her throat while the nylon wire coiled around her neck. And tightened. Her breath hitched in her chest while she struggled to breath and her wand clattered to the ground. Aided by his Flames, the Mafioso yanked her forward and lifted her up till the tips of her shoes barely touched the floor._

" _Le brave bambine dovrebbero starsene a casa, non giocare a fare la Mafiosa," he hissed leveling her with a savage look, flexing his already bulging muscles. But Iris paid his ramblings no mind, too focused on the rope which was slowly suffocating her._

 _Her vision started to fog up. Her lungs were screaming at her for air._

 _Her hand grasped his arm, scratching deeply into it and leaving behind smears of blood. Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes while black spots started to seep into her vision. With a shudder she realized, she was blacking out, slowly and inexorably._

 _His grip tightened. His smile sharpened._ _"Dì addio ragazzina!"_

'I can't die like this! Teddy! I still have to find Teddy!' _She screamed to herself, struggling against his hold."I-I_ _ **wo-on't**_ _die lik-ke this!" The scream that escaped her was more of a garble that anything else. However, it wasn't her muddled words who stunned him but rather her eyes. Her dazzled green eyes which, for the first time ever, shone a magnificent Sky amber hue._ _ **"I WON'T!"**_

 _Her heart hammered in her chest, pumping blood faster and faster in her veins. The resulting adrenaline sharpened her senses and fought against the numbing feeling of her body. Iris' left hand fell at her side and curled around a sleek, elaborate handle. Her sluggish brain registered the cold feeling of the ivory against her palm and she stabbed his unprotected abdomen. Again. And again. With all the straight that she had left ._

 _Albani's eyes widened in shock and stiffened against her, his grip on the wire twitching for a second. And then it slackened._

 _She fell heavily to her knees. The first big gulp of air was like heaven for her deprived lungs. Again and again, she breathed in deeply while her body trembled in exhaustion, her wand clasped tightly between her hands once more. Along with Sirius' blood-spattered knife._

 _In front of her, Albani was crouching down as well, both hands clutched his lower stomach, in an effort to stop the bleeding. She could see she had hurt him badly. The floor was already stained with his blood and it showed no sign of stopping soon._

 _She didn't_ _ **care**_ _._

 _With trembling legs, the witch got up and dragged herself to her Firebolt and hopped on it. Her bloody hands grasped hard the handle, making the polished wood slippery. She gave a last look at the dying man before shooting out one of the windows._

 _If_ _ **that**_ _were the consequences of having Sky Flames or Harmonize, she had no intention of using them._

 _Ever._

 _._

 _._

 _._

Shaking her head, Iris fixed on her right sleeve her wand holder.

She loved her Auror uniform. It was light and breathable even in the hottest or coldest weather; the runes stitched on the dark green turtleneck and dragon pants adjusted easily to her needs and the spells woven into the fabrics would protect her more than an armour.

Looking one last time at her reflection in the mirror, she took a deep breath. It was high time to take Teddy back. And this once, she would be the one attacking and she would take no prisoners.

She clasped tightly her Cloak around her neck, the shining silver and fluid fabric falling like water on her shoulders. She pulled the hood on and vanished from sight.

 **oOo**

' _If he wants to be considered worthy of the inheritance of the Guardian of Lightning he must clear a number of conditions and reach my location.'_

Reborn's lips curled in a grimace while the words of Lampo, the imprint of the Vongola's First Guardian of the Lightning, echoed in his mind. Lambo was just a five years old boy -an extremely annoying five years old boy- and he just hoped his spoiled nature wouldn't ruin everything.

Yuni's situation was too precarious, even with the other pacifier holders and the Vongola protecting her. The Ten Generation needed their Inheritance if they hoped to defeat Byakuran and his Millefiore. Badly.

The miniature killer lowered his fedora, watching from behind its brim Dame-Tsuna and the annoying cow while the two slept in the teen's bed, snoring noisily and tangled in the sheets.

"Faranno meglio a superare la prova domani!" The Sun sighed out while he repressed the need to shot at both of them. Luckily for the two sleeping, his homicidal needs were interrupted by the light vibration of his phone. His chubby hand twitched lightly in seeing the ID displayed on the screen.

Shamal.

"Chaos," he muttered leaving the bedroom and closing the door firmly behind. The rest of the house was silent. A truly feat since he arrived in the Sawada residence.

"I have the results…" The Mist response came without beating about the bush. The Arcobaleno could easily imagine the doctor balancing his phone between his shoulder and his ear. From the noises he could hear in the background, Shamal was riding with his car on a highly bumpy road. "Iemitsu was right. Iris Sinclair has twenty-five percent of alleles in common with you. "

Reborn closed tightly his eyes, his perfect impassive mask shattering completely while incredulity raced through his system. He squeezed tightly his childish fist, hoping that the pain from piercing his palm with his nails would make him process this new information easier. It wasn't working. Everything he thought he knew, had just gone to hell and back. "How close of a relationship?"

"Leaving aside the fact that she has something in her bloodstream that messes the results, so I had to repeat the blood work more that onc-"

"Shamal." On the other side of the world, the Sun Arcobaleno's black eyes narrowed sharply, reflecting his hard and full of warning tone. The Vongola tutor wouldn't tolerate babbling foolery. Not now.

The Mist flinched at the sharpness, looking down at his tests with a racing pulse. "I-it says that you are likely her uncle. But… Reborn…"

"What!" Reborn cut in, grinding his teeth together, frustrated. In the space of a moment, Shamal had turned his World upside down, confirming his worst nightmare. He, Reborn, Renato bloody Sinclair, had been careless and had made an error. And now the consequence of that error was running around Italy, attracting Mafioso and sowing chaos. What _more_ could there be?!

"She is much more likely to be your granddaughter."

Baby teeth bit violently in plump bottom lip to stop the scream that wanted to rip itself out of the Sun Arcobaleno's throat. "…Where is she heading?"

And Shamal didn't know what scared him more. The smooth, controlled intonation of the World's Best Hitman's childish voice or the hint of possessive protection he could hear in it.

"Freiburg. Südlich Deutschland," he answered in the end, reading the road sign in front of him with a perfect German accent. "I'm still tracking the kid down but I know for sure she will come here searching for the Estraneos." Then he scratched his chin and added, "Iris may take the long way around, she sure got droves of assassins after her since she ran away from the Todd's Famiglia base of operation last week. Almost killed Albani, too."

And _dannazione_ , if he wasn't proud of her! The kid fought against a trained Mafioso hard enough not only to get away but to inflict damage, half drugged too. It spoke highly of her instincts and skills. And he knew he wasn't the only one feeling this way; he could just hear Reborn's smirk from the other side of the phone, although it was probably thinner than normal after the bomb he dropped on him.

But more than that, he was sure the Sun was feeling apprehensive. And angry. Furious even, against the men who dared to touch _his_ granddaughter.

And no one touched the family of a killer and got away unscathed. And Reborn was just a killer, he was _the_ killer. The World's Best Hitman.

" **Find her**."

The hand of the Mist trembled lightly while he closed the call. Adrenaline and excitement rushed through his veins. He had almost forgotten how Reborn's voice sounded as an adult. It was deep, smooth, controlled. The voice of an assassin.

Shamal's smile sharpened. Iris had demonstrated to be highly resourceful. Once she recovered from her ordeal from the Todd Mason, she would arrive in the Black Forest, searching for the Estraneo labs. And whatever they had taken from her.

Yes, Reborn's vengeance would be terrifying. And the Todd Family would be only the start.

He couldn't wait.

 **oOo**

"They are beautiful!"

Pale, blond hair shifted while Luna looked up from her flowers composition. Even from her kneeled position, she was hardly shorter that the child next to her. The child, because that girl couldn't have been more than eleven years old, looked at the little blue and lilac blossoms planted on the ground. Absentmindedly, Luna noted the Slytherin House insignia proudly displayed on the left breast-pocket of kid's sweater.

"Thank you," she answered, voice as light and dreamy as ever. "They are Forget-Me-Nots and Bluebells. The wood fairies collected them just for us."

"The fairies?" Whispered the first year's excited voice.

Luna tilted her head lightly smiling pleasantly, displaying a pair of radish earrings and the black walnut wand tucked neatly behind her ear. "Why, of course! They quite like to play and dance in their enchanted fields. They gave us these flowers to brighten Hogwarts again."

Both girls stopped speaking and Luna resumed to plant the delicate flowers on the soft ground while the Slytherin hummed lightly under her breath. After a while, the eleven years old got down on her knees too and stared at the blond, an intense look painted on her young face.

"I know you," she stated with her soft lilting voice, "you are one of the members of the DA. I saw you… fighting during the battle. You were defending one of the accesses to the tunnels we used to run away."

The Ravenclaw nodded while her silvery blue eyes unfocused for a second. "Luna Lovegood."

The young Slytherin smiled carelessly. "Pleasure. I'm Carina McN-"

"Carina!"

The two girls turned around toward the school. From the ruins of Hogwarts was walking toward them a young wizard, covered from head to toes of dirt and ashes. Like many, he wore the red tunic that identified him as one of the volunteers who was helping to secure the castle. Still, with his the bright red hair and the lack of one ear, both of them easily recognized George Weasley.

"Nearly Headless Nick is very cross with you, Carina! Your lesson already started; all the others are waiting for you for ages!" He said firmly, leveling her with a fake disappointed look. "We don't want for him to totally lose his head searching for you, right?"

The child smiled, a sly glint shined in her eyes but nodded anyway. She was about to leave when she turned to the blond witch. "Thank you, you know, for making it so beautiful," Carina muttered suddenly shy, playing idly with the hem of her sweater. "Will you brighten all the others too?"

"Yes, yes I will."

"All of them?" Asked the eleven years old narrowing her eyebrows, dubious. Hogwarts' yard was very, very extensive after all. Obtaining an affirmative answer by both the older teens, the Slytherin nodded satisfied and her silvery see-through body shined once before disappearing completely from sight.

The red-head aborted a pained sound and clenched his fist tight; then, he turned to his blond friend and said, "I still can't believe they dared to attack the school knowing their own children were inside. There is no limit to the depravity of the Death Eaters; Hogwarts has nearly thirty new ghosts and most of them are under fourteen years old."

Luna sent a pointed look to the boy, for once her appearance very different from her usual dreamy one. "Were you hoping that Fred would come back too?" At the pained look flashed in George's face, the witch sighed. "What these ghosts will have is just a fleeting imitation of life; they will never rest. You should be happy your other half won't wander on this Earth for the eternity."

"I am," he muttered with a crushed look in his blue eyes. "I am," he repeated with a softer tone, running a hand down his dusty face, almost like he was trying to convince himself. "I just wish…"

"You wish to be completed again," murmured Luna, pushing a lock of blond hair behind her ear. "With time, you will find peace too George, you _will_ heal." Saying that, she picked up her flowers-filled basket and pushed it in his hands. "Come now! We have promised Carina we would brighten this yard and we still have a lot of flowers to plant to do it properly."

Nodding lightly, George moved to the next spot, already feeling the aches of what promised to be a long, hard afternoon. He didn't mind, it meant he would have a night of reprieve from his nightmares. From seeing Fred's glassy, dead eyes staring at him again.

Behind them, blue and lilac enchanted flowers decorated the grave of Carina McNair, one of the too young victims of the Battle of Hogwarts. Soon all the other white marks on Hogwarts' yard would be brightened in the same way.

 **oOo**

"T-that… was not what I was expecting..."

And it really wasn't. The doctor was sure his eyes were this close to popping out of his skull. An inferno of flames and smoke were steadily eating away what was, just minutes before, one of the biggest laboratories owned by the Estraneo Family. And now it was turning to ashes.

"Cristo, ha il caratteraccio di Reborn!" He couldn't help but murmur, swallowing drily. And that was never good news. For no one.

Shaking his head and the images of a female teenager version of Reborn, the Italian Mafioso focused on the lonely figure standing just a few feet in front of him. The dark of the night and the fire's flickering light hindered his vision; a pinch of Mist Flames easily resolved the problem and almost wished it didn't. Iris Sinclair was even shorter in person. And a lot skinnier than the photo CEDEF mailed him.

' _This couple of months have not been kind to her,'_ he mentally despaired, already knowing that getting her to submit to a medical exam would be a pain. Her grandfather was just the same.

Purposely stepping on one of the twigs that covered the wood's terrain, Shamal smirked in seeing her jump from the unexpected sound. Blood was running down one side of her forehead, forcing her to keep one eye shut, and she had a couple of scrapes here and there but, all things considered, Iris was uninjured. His brown eyes focused on the covered bundle she was holding in her arms. Apparently, she had found what she was searching for.

Shamal felt the weight of her emerald eyes on him and he briefly pondered how something so cute and innocent could have Reborn as kin. It wasn't natural. Still, cute kid or not, he had to convince her to follow him. A stranger. On her own accord. Looking back at the destroyed hideout he realized it was easier say than done. However, his mental rambling was interrupted by a trembling female voice.

"…Sirius?"

Shamal smirked. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard after all.


	8. Chapter 8

**A Jaded Family**

 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling while Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to the genius of Akira Amano. I make no claim to ownership on either of them.

 **Summary:** She wasn't a hero or a savior, not anymore. If she had owed something to the world, she more than paid it back with blood and tears… so why did they take Teddy away from her? And why was everyone so interested in her grandfather?!

 **A/N:** I'M ALIVEEE! AND UPDATING! My thanks to **Zaidee Lighthart** and **Amu4ever** for spurning me on in not giving up and my love to **MiraAdaraBlack** for hearing me blab and helping me in planning this chapter! Part of the dialogues **Lightning Candle** wrote has been incorporated in mine and some words have been changed to fit the story. Again, thank you to all the people who followed, favorited, reviewed or just read 'A Jaded Family'!

 **A/N:** Before you start reading, here some translations you may find useful:

Bambolina – Doll.

Ragazzina – Kid.

Dio Misericordioso – Merciful God.

Merda – Shit.

Giusto!– Right!

Ciao nonno! – Hi grandfather!

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 8**

Ginny Weasley was _not_ crazy, thank you very much. She may be short-tempered, moody, even bitchy sometimes –and Morgana knew, with brothers like hers, she had every reason to be one- but not crazy. She had seen craziness; true, pure craziness. It had been mixed with an unhealthy dose sadism and bloodlust, but it glinted too sharply in the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange to confound it with something else.

She shuffled uncomfortably feeling the fine hair of her arms rising and her dominant hand twitch. That bloody woman kept tormenting her even as a corpse. Ginny supposed that, like You-Know-Who, some people just couldn't stop being terrifying. The witch sure did enough nasty things to give nightmares to the Wizarding population for the next few decades. It was normal to be scared. It was normal to be jumpy. It was normal to be stressed. It was. Truly.

In the end, why she capitulated, she had no idea. It was not like it would help. And it was not like _he_ understood, he wasn't there. He wasn't there when the Death Eaters conquered the school, when the students had to cast Unforgivables on each other. When they had to run and hide inside the Room of Requirement so very terrified and alone. He wasn't there when they had to stay strong and fight and bleed and just _keep going on_ -

She took a deep breath, trying to stop her frenetic thoughts and the hitch in it. Being here made it worse. Talking about it made it worse. _Thinking_ about it made it worse. Still, Shacklebolt, her parents, the whole Wizarding World… they kept pushing. Not just her or the rest of the DA but all the survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts.

They insisted they sought out help.

Like they were broken dolls and they needed for them to be fixed. Like in some way they could retrieve the innocence they had lost. Like they would forget what they had seen and how they abandoned them for a year. It was impossible to forget and, she was starting to think, it would be impossible to forgive too. At least for her.

She glared resentfully at the Mind Healer Jonathan Adams, the one who was supposed to analyze her _traumas_ and help her _heal_. Not that it worked; she had never said a word to him, spending their two hours together in complete silence. Looking at him, the young Weasley sneered at his kind, understanding eyes and crossed her arms in front of her.

A little part of her was sure that if he wasn't her healer, she would have liked the old man well enough; but he _was_ her therapist and that changed everything.

As for now, she didn't like him. She didn't like his wizarding and muggle degrees that covered the study's walls. She didn't like his nice furniture and his cleanly stacked books-filled library. Not even his easy smile or his polite approach.

' _Everything here is for the purpose to make people feel at ease and willing to open up…'_ The red-head thought irritated. _'Even the Healer…'_ But why should she? She already did once, when she was eleven and lonely, trusting the diary of a teenager Tom Riddle with her innermost secrets and desires and it ended with her sanity and very soul almost lost forever.

"How are you feeling today Miss Weasley?" His smooth, reassuring voice cut through her storming thoughts and young witch bit her lower lip to stop herself from snorting back at him. It always started with that question, like a broken record. Now she knew why Harry hated it so much. It was annoying as hell. "What do you think?" She replayed sarcastically, hoping that her snapping at him would put him off her back once for all. She had a long afternoon; her DA squad found a mass grave in their rose gardens while searching Lestrange Manor for evidence. That sight will remain burned in her memory forever. She really wanted to just go home and sleep the rest of her life away.

However, her response seemed to please him more than anything else. She supposed it was an improvement from gazing the walls for the whole sessions. Indeed, the lines on his face smoothed slightly and sipping lightly on his cup of tea, Adams commented, "I don't know, that's why I'm asking you." As always he had offered her one too, a politely pleasant if not smoothing ritual that he insisted on pursuing before the start of her session. However, hers, like always, remained untouched on the coffee table in front of her. "So how did you spend this couple of weeks?"

"I can't disclose DA missions with whoever I want."

The Healer hummed lightly, scribbling something down on his notepad, "Job only? Did you visit your parent at all?"

Her chocolate brown eyes narrowed imperceptibly, and her tone of voice defensive, "Keep my family out of this, Healer. We are fine. I am _fine_."

"Ginevra," he said sighing heavily, his quill all but forgotten against the parchment he was writing on. "I highly doubt you are fine. Your parents are mourning a son, you kids a brother…"

She shook her head and shuffled fluttered uncomfortably in her armchair, pulling nervously at her ginger locks. Despite her usual indifferent tone, this time, the trembling in her voice was discernible -if it was due from anger or fear she didn't know, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

The Healer, however, seemed he didn't hear her. "…Not only that, you children were made to fight a battle that should have been fought very far away from you all…"

"Shut up!"

"… not to mention your first year with the opening of the Chamb-"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" She kept shouting, her patience finally running out after months of listening to the wizard who kept going on and on about such forbidden topics. Her temper finally got the better of her. And her silence broke. "WE DID WHAT WE HAD TO DO! WE LEARNED TO SURVIVE IN THE ONLY WAY WE FOUND! AND WE FOUGHT AND WE WON WHILE YOU ALL HIDE LIKE SNIVELLING LITTLE COWARDS AND NOW YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO COMMENT ON MY LIFE LIKE IS A MERLIN DAMNED MUGGLE SOAP OPERA AND… and…"

The Healer's face was opened with a satisfied smile. And Ginny turned pale with a mix of anguish and embarrassment in understanding. He had outsmarted her.

After months of stubborn silence, he finally outsmarted her.

The tension-filled silence was punctuated by the sharp ticking of the clock. Her freckles stood out starkly against the waxy skin. "I have to go," she mumbled jumping up on her feet clumsily and snatching her DA cloak back in her arms. Nevertheless, she didn't take even a couple of steps before Healer Adams' voice stopped her.

"Ginevra… Ginny," he said softly, switching to a more familiar form for of address, "I can't even start to imagine how hard this situation is for you or your brothers. You had been very brave, you still are, however you were mentally unprepared for fighting in a war."

At the hunted look at the mention of the Battle of Hogwarts that lingered in her eyes, he took a decision. As a mind healer, he knew he wasn't supposed to give advice, it was important for his patients to take their time to acknowledge their problems; however, it seemed that the only way to make the young witch understand the gravity of the situation was talking honestly.

"You are now suffering from a mental disorder called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. And, despite what you may think, the nightmares, the flashbacks and the panic attacks won't stop. Smells, sounds, touches... Anything can be a trigger and push you into reliving the war… or the Chamber." He took her hands in his own and squeezed, trying to reassure her and impress the gravity of the situation. "Your temper will get shorter and shorter, then you'll start to feel detached and numb. In a matter of time, you'll lose every interpersonal relationship you have made in your life. Even with your own family. Ginny, I don't want to see you destroy yourself."

Levelly her with an uncompromising but sympathetic look, he walked her to the exit and showed her outside his office. "When you feel you are ready to talk, know that my door is always open for you. There is no shame in admitting you need help."

Incredulous, the redhead watched as the healer visage disappeared behind the door. She blinked, slowly. He let her go. He honestly gave her permission not to go to their sessions. _'He is letting me doing this at my pace…'_

Inside the office, Adams rubbed tiredly his face. He did everything he could, now it was to Ms Weasley decide what to do. You could not help those who didn't want to be helped, he knew it very well. Still, when his patients were so young and scared…

A light knocking interrupted his thoughts. It was followed by a muffled voice.

"I-I'll see you next week, healer Adams."

Miss Weasley.

A smile that stretched in his wrinkled face and closed his eyes in relief. PTSD was not something one could just ignore.

 **oOo**

She saw the circus once. Not the show, no, heaven forbid Petunia let her have fun for once, but she saw the big tent, the exotics animals and colorful folk from the other side of a street in London.

 _Freaks_ , Uncle Vernon had called them under his breath before drag his family away. In that moment, five years old Harriet related with them, for what is a freak among other freaks? She imagined to be free from Privet Drive and its atrocious dullness and instead dreamed of breathing fire or fold herself inside a box.

Now, Harry realized that she didn't need a rope or work in a circus to be an equilibrist. Since her eleventh birthday, fantasy and reality mixed. And from that moment she had always lived her life with the adrenaline pumping, at the edge of peril.

At the edge of life and death.

It had always been easy to forget –to ignore- her _problems_ when all her loved ones were suffering. She could focus on _them_ and bury years and years of pain and disappointment behind a broken but fixed smile.

Nightmares and visions were no novelty for the Girl-who-Lived. They overwhelmed her fragile mind since she was fifteen years old after all. And so, with adrenaline pumping in her veins and her breath stained, reality and fantasy mix again; the air that was before so full of ashes became filled with smoke and the fire cracking change in colored flashes. Suddenly she was fifteen again and back in the Ministry's Death Chamber. Her hands were full of something to protect, something tiny and fragile and a dark-haired man had come to her rescue again.

"…Sirius?" She choked out, all but whispering, voice raw and tormented.

Her godfather was not far away from her, just a couple of paces, but still too far away. She was trembling and unbelievably pale and totally out of balance. Tears and smoke hazed her sight but she took no notice because all her focus drawn on the approaching figure. His stride spoke of overconfidence and self-assurance. She couldn't help but think that, despite the years of prison, Sirius still walked like a Prima Donna.

He smirked at her, the mischievous and seductive tilt of the lips. Her breath hitched in her throat and her hands tremble so hard that she almost lost her hold on the bundle. Luckily for her, Sirius' instincts were sharp and he took it from her with strong hands before she can make it fall to the ground.

' _It's good,'_ she thought, giving him a weak smile. _'Sirius wasn't like her. He would protect the prophecy…'_

She stood there petrified, while sweat gathered at her temples, searching for a sign of acknowledgment from the man. He didn't give any; rather he frowned lightly looking at his full arms. Nonetheless, his grip firmed.

Her already broken heart hammered loudly in her ears as a voice inside her mind hissed that it wasn't as it should be. He shouldn't, _couldn't_ be there. She didn't deserve for him to talk to her, look at her with soft eyes again. He should hate her, his needy goddaughter. Her and her stupidity.

However, he didn't seem to mind. He opened his mouth and the young Potter drank enchanted in the vision of his tongue swirling around vowels and consonant, pronouncing the familiar English lilt.

"Hi, Iris."

Shaking harder and harder, her heart jumped into her throat. Then it slowed down when the reality finally slammed into her. She stared up at him, emerald eyes glassy and dull, blinking away the remains mix of memories and dreams.

It was a remembrance of Bellatrix's exalted voice that reminded her that Sirius was dead; that his soul had departed from the mortal plan and his body was lost forever behind a mystic curtain. She felt herself die a little more. Just looking at this man hurt, for the likeness or the differences to Sirius she did not know.

His long, shaggy shoulder brown hair was similar enough but lacked the waves of ebony typical of the Black Family. His deep chocolate eyes had not enough grey and silver, not did glint and shine in the same way; even his chiseled features and athletic body contrasted with the emaciated one of her convicted godfather. However, he was similar enough. Similar enough that just watching him, made her _hope_ and _despair_.

The man, not-Sirius, never-Sirius, stared at her studying, evaluating her and sighed deeply. Like he was disappointed. In what she had no idea.

Something about the man was putting her on edge, making the fine hair on the back of her head rose and focus all her senses on him. Instinctively, she went to tighten her grip on Teddy, only to not find him in her arms but in the stranger's instead. A burning anguish lodged firmly at the bottom of her stomach. Just the thought of losing the little metamorphous was enough to leave her feeling empty, numb. Completely drained.

How could she have lost herself so much that she didn't even realize that Teddy wasn't safe in her embrace? Never before her flashbacks had been so realistic nor they attacked her while she was wide awake. Her mind had finally betrayed her.

' _Even with Voldemort's visions, she was relatively aware and now_ this _…'_ She thought, feeling conflicted and desperate. She wanted to apparate away –being as far away as possible from this man and from the feelings and the memories he had awaken into her- but that would have meant leaving her godson behind. Something she found unacceptable. She knew the child she went to save was the only thing keeping her from shattering into millions of pieces.

Edward was too young for that form of traveling, anyway. And she still didn't know what that doctors had done to her four months old godson, what damage his little body had to bear under their care. She couldn't risk him, not now that freedom was so near.

The same male voice, the one who woke her from her daydream, this time colored with a hint of Italian accent, drawled out. "I'm Shamal, nice to meet you."

She took a step backward and rose a skeptical eyebrow at him. Shamal sounded everything but pleased; if she had to describe him, she would say he was more bored than anything else. Still, the man kept going on. "And you are Iris Sinclair. The kid who has given the Mafia a run for its money. I have to admit it, you gave an interesting chase."

Definitely uncomfortable to accept a compliment from a Mafioso, she decided it was wiser to simply let it go. Still, she pursed remembering _how_ he addressed her. Morgana, she hated when people called her like that! "I'm not a _kid_."

"Oh, bambolina, don't I know it," he purred while lascivious eyes concentrated on the swell of her breasts and on her dragon-skin covered legs.

He was met with an impressive murderous stare. One he was more than certain she inherited from her grandfather. She just needed the abyss black irises.

"Was it everything for a brat?" He asked, nodding lightly to the baby precariously perched in his arms. He didn't particularly care about children -he preferred to give all his attention to the curvy mothers anyway- but even he could admit he was almost… cute. The black-haired child looked at him with a pair of liquid, innocent green eyes. _'Green eyes that were eerie similar to the ones that were currently glaring at him from a five foot five midget,'_ he thought mentally weeping. Dio Misericordioso, he really hoped it wasn't as he thought. Because Reborn's nerves could take a lot but a teen mum for granddaughter? If this wouldn't incite a rain of bullets, nothing would. "He is your little brother, _right_?"

Harry let her eyes jump to her godson for a second before pinning them back in his chocolate one, hardening with a fierce resolution that made him smile. Her body angled slightly towards him, slumped in a sort of languid readiness learned from fighting all her life, before snapping out, "Not that it is any of your business but no, he is not. Give him back. _Now_. "

He closed his eyes and mentally sighed. Someone up there really, _really_ hated him. Why?! What did he do to deserve this?! He snorted, fully aware of his own hypocrisy. Still, he didn't think he deserved having to deal with a mama bear in a raging path.

' _Talking about raging path…'_ The Mist stuffed his hands in his coat's pockets before saying, "Albani didn't take well to your little disappearing act. He got his killers searching for you…" He hummed almost lazily, tilting his head in a sort of sideways shrug and smiling charmingly. "You are lucky it was me who find you first."

Those intense green eyes opened, cold and hunted. "So you are not here to kill me?"

"Kill you?" He busted out laughing, "Sweetheart if I wanted to kill you I would have done it while you were daydreaming. You sure gave me time enough. No, I'm here because a friend asked me to find you and keep you safe."

"I don't need your help. I just need you to give me back Teddy and leave me alone."

"Leave you alone? To go where exactly? You are in the middle of nowhere in a damn German forest, ragazzina, and you need medical help for this brat. He had been in the Estraneos' hands for two months… at least. Who knows what they did to him?" The doctor snorted lightly. "Are you really in position to refuse help?"

She gritted her teeth in frustration. He was right, obviously. Only a careful medical exam would show the damage done to her baby godson. And to his magic too. The child's eyes and hair changed to green and black once he saw her but they hadn't changed since. That's why she had no problem in casting the Imperius on one of the doctors to make him downloading all the medical procedures made on Teddy for her. would surely need them to treat the young wizard. She could only imagine what she would find in them once she had time to read them properly.

Suddenly, the pen drive in her purse seemed to weight a ton.

"I happen to be a doctor and I'm offering my services…" He murmured passing the child back to her; a show of trust if she knew one. "Usually I don't treat males but I'll make an exception for you two."

She pursed her lips; she need to protect Teddy warring with her common sense. She shouldn't listen to him, she didn't even know him or the 'friend' who asked him to search for her. Still, she couldn't help but trust him a little; something deep inside her, something that was always _struggling_ but still _burning_ brightly after all these years, murmured that yes, she could trust him. He wouldn't betray her. "I thought you were a Mafioso, " she said in the end, with barely a whisper of voice.

"I am, but I do enjoy working with my medical degree. And it's an honest one too." He replayed smiling cheerfully, knowing he had won her over. He offered her his arm. "Now, can we go or are we waiting for the Todds to catch up with us?"

 **oOo**

The little village they ended up hiding was unassuming. Criminals standard's unassuming.

' _Private Drive unassuming...'_ the witch thought with a shiver looking around the two-room apartment. _'Just_ _less fancy.'_

It put her on edge with his normality and she could easily feel her body tense with unrestrained nerves.

For his part, Shamal could almost physically feel the hole the young Sinclair was trying to drill in his back. He lowered the child's –Teddy's he reminded himself- shirt and hung his stethoscope around his neck. "Explain me again why exactly you set the Estraneo's building on fire."

The girl pursed her lips in irritation thinking back at her fiery onslaught. Breaking into the labs had been fairly easy thanks to her Cloak and a couple of well-aimed spells. The fact that it was significantly understaffed helped too. She made the mental note that if she ever meets that psycho –Mukuro Rokudo – she would thank him for his disinfection job.

Apparently, parasites like the Estraneos didn't deserve to live.

Any reservations she may had had, died a brutal death after finding the lab's cellblock and the inmates. Again, children or adults didn't make a difference; only their research mattered. This time, however, they made a colossal mistake: they took a wizard who was the carrier of the genetic marker for lycanthropy. And transfused his blood into them.

The possibility of Teddy to inherit his father's condition was one thing Andromeda had worried a lot. That's why the baby spent his first days at the St. Mungo doing all types of test. Luckily, it turned out his metamorphous ability suppressed any possibility of involuntary transformation. On the night of full moon, the child would merely be in a very bad mood and maybe crave some rare meat. Nothing unmanageable.

But the muggles didn't have a magical core. They had no defense against the Wolf Curse and his symptoms. No remedy, muggle or otherwise, could help them from dying in agony. Giving them a painless death was the only thing she could do for them. Burning to the ground that accursed place was another. No one unauthorized would put their hands on Teddy's blood.

Blinking once to focus back on the Italian doctor, the witch summarized darkly, "They _aggravated_ me."

The Mist rose an amused eyebrow and chuckled. He was quite certain none of the Estraneos escaped the compound before she set it on fire. Iris surely lived up to Reborn's reputation. "Of this, I have no doubt."

Nodding satisfied, he took off his rubber gloves with a snap. "The brat is fine. He's a bit underweight and anemic but he is mostly unharmed. He has been lucky."

The teen crossed her arms in front of her, looking distinctly unimpressed, "Do you call being kidnapped for three months 'being lucky'?"

Shamal shrugged and passed her the child. "His young age saved him from the experiments. That's a lot more than what the other inmates could say."

The green of her irises darkened in pain and she tightened her grip on the sleeping child. Protective instincts returning full force. Shamal mentally cursed his cynical tongue. Everything would be easier if he could just use his Flames on her -if only to get a read of her and her mood or understand just how strong hers were. But she showed she had quite the gasp on her Mist Flames in Genova and mingling their own together would put her immediately on the hostile side. Even on an unconscious level.

So he had to work on the only things he knew for certain. Humor always worked and his resemblance to this mysterious Sirius would give him some edge. Make her trust him more. "Listen, half pint," he said ignoring her answering scowl with ease. "I'll prepare something to eat for the kid. In the meantime, take some clothes from the wardrobe and change yourself. It should be more comfortable than all that leather and then we will speak more."

Eyebrows furrowed in weariness, the English girl nodded making her way to out of the living room. However her retreat was interrupted by one last lascivious comment. "Not that the whole dominatrix look doesn't suit you!"

The rude gesture that followed made him burst out laughing. What could he say? He had an appreciation for the female beauty and despite her small height and even smaller size, she had features to kill for. At this he frowned, the doctor side of him making him pause.

Something was seriously wrong with Iris Sinclair.

The abrupt sound of Teddy's babbling made him get a move and started to prepare the baby bottle. Picking up the lyophilized milk, the drawn figure of the child stared at him from the box. He shuddered visibly. He was so _not_ ready for this shit. Still, the physical action gave him time to think about the young woman.

' _PTSD,_ ' he concluded after a long moment. He noticed the signs in the forest but he was fairly certain now. Combined with the utterly lethal grace she carried herself and the ruthless efficiency she displayed in those months, it spoke of a very fucked up childhood. An abusive one.

His eyes couldn't help but be attracted to the partially open door of the bedroom where the girl and the child retired. If it was a sign of trust or not, he didn't know. Still, his gaze fixed to Iris' undressing form and almost choked on his own saliva.

While the bruises ware something he expected, the scarred skin stretched over her the visible ribs and bony shoulders were not. They weren't the worst he had seen; still, those were Mafiosi not the civilian granddaughter of Renato Sinclair.

Shamal scrubbed a hand over his face irritably, shaking the baby bottle absent-mindedly with the other. The list of the person who would have to face the World's Greatest Assassin had just got longer and longer.

' _Cute little Mist or not, this time Reborn own me big!'_ He thought, rolling up his shirt's sleeve, tasting the milk temperature on his inner wrist. _'The things I do for living…'_

His mental whimpering was interrupted by his phone vibrating in his doctor coat. A hysterical laugh almost escaped him in seeing the name of the caller. "Talking about the Devil…"

He pushed the green button.

"Did you find her?"

The doctor snorted. So much for a hello. "Yes, Reborn, she is in the other room. Nobody followed us."

The Sun Flame User hummed in approval. "Good. What have you learned about her?"

' _That he, Trident Shamal, was dead,'_ Shamal could help but think. She was a teen mum and he had to say _that_ to the Strongest Arcobaleno. "Well, your granddaughter would make a good addition to any family. She has the mark of a formidable survivor," he explained pondering his words carefully. Then his face twisted into a horrible grimace. He just hoped his tomb would be comfortable enough. "…And she is intensely protective of her son-"

" _ **Son?**_ _"_

The incredulity of the hitman's tone was uncomfortable. For a second, Shamal was torn with the desire to start begging for mercy. Only what remained of his feeble pride stopped him from doing it. "Unconfirmed if he is adopted or not but he looks uncannily like her," the Mist eventually managed to answer.

He heard Reborn inhale sharply but whatever the shrunken man wanted to hurl at him was interrupted by a high pitched baby cry.

"Dr. Shamal? Is that baby bottle ready?" Iris rubbed it in without even realizing it from the other room.

The sting of Italian obscenities that followed made _him_ blush.

"Just a second!" He stammered out to the Brit juggling between his cell phone and the baby bottle. Then he turned back to his call, "I-I have to go Reborn…"

" **Don't you dare hang up, perv-** "

However, it seemed that whatever God existed, he hated Shamal. With all his moving, the phone slipped from between his cheek and shoulder and it slammed hard against the kitchen floor. He looked at the scattered pieces and _paled_.

He just accidentally hung on the other killer. He just accidentally hung up on _Reborn_.

"…Dr. Shamal?"

Forlorn, he started walking toward his bedroom with a heavy heart in his chest and a feeding bottle in hand.

The Sinclair family would be the end of him.

.

.

.

Feeding Teddy seemed easier when Andromeda did it. A lot easier.

Watching the baby fail again from latching on the bottle, the witch's mouth flattened into a straight line.

She was ashamed to say that she never took a particularly active role in raising the little metamorphmagus. Between her missions with the DA, the meetings with the Minister and planning the rebuilding of Hogwarts it was a miracle she managed to go home every evening to put the child to sleep. Andromeda never blamed her for it; the older woman knew sometimes she didn't even have the time to sleep more than three hours in a row. There was just too much to do and so little time. And apparently, everything had to be Savior Approved.

It still didn't help her from feeling unimpressed with herself.

' _This is ridiculous! I should be able to feed my own godchild!'_ she thought exasperated, doing her best to ignore the silently laughing man beside her.

Shamal, for his part, was having the time of his life. After the disastrous phone call with Iris' grandfather, he sure needed it. He crossed his arms around his midsection, leaning a hip against the edge of the bed, his neutral expression finally shifting to amusement.

The feeding bottle slipped from the child's mouth. Again.

He snickered. Her face morphed into a disgruntled expression.

"Think you can you do better?!" She snapped at him, handing him over the child with a raised eyebrow.

All his answer was an impish smirk followed by the sound of Teddy suckling. If he cheated and used his Mist Flames to help a bit, well, she didn't have to know.

"Cheeky git." She murmured dryly. This time her tone wasn't hard and cynical. A pleased light shined in her eyes, making them lighter than their usual emerald color. She smiled and touched his arm. And when the two came into contact, he had just the time to realize what he was feeling when it _happened_.

Indigo Mist and orange Sky mixed in a whirlwind of colour and something slammed into his Flames, sizing his soul with the promise of eternal freedom. Of belonging. Of home.

Harmony _flooded_ his very being.

His eyelashes fluttered against sharp cheekbones and his stomach clenched at the sensation. He then swallowed hard as Iris' green eyes glowed orange and he tightened his grip on Teddy's fragile form. His instincts already reflecting her desire to protect the child.

' _ **His Sky**_ _'s desire to protect her son,'_ his mind whispered in awe.

Shamal looked down at her clenched fingertips, bone white around his scrub. Her shoulders raised in an unmistakable defensive posture, expression weary and confused. Despite this, her Sky Flames latched strongly at his Mist ones.

"Merda," he breathed. And now who was going to tell that to Reborn?!

 **oOo**

"Shamal, really, it's not the moment!" Reborn snapped as a greeting to the assassin-doctor, still pissed off for the early phone call. His black eyes glanced around the yard of the temple where the Vongola Ten Generation and their friends were goofing around and basically getting on his nerves.

Yuni's sky blue eyes met his own. For a moment, a happy knowing sparkle replaced the worried look that she wore for most of the previous weeks. Before he could ask her what she had seen -because Reborn was sure she had just had a short Vision- the watch on her left wrist chimed lightly and a soft grin brightened her countenance. Walking toward the other teenagers, the thirteen years old said over her shoulder. "Ten seconds from the bazooka activation. I'll alert the others and start the countdown."

The Sun lowered the brim of his fedora in thanking, for once deciding to let his curiosity go. He took a couple of steps from the main group – still well in the teleport area but far enough to give a semblance of privacy- and got back to the Mist's call.

"You heard her pervert, ten seconds and we are back to the future timeline so keep it short."

"Nine," counted the Sky Arcobaleno.

"But, but-t… I- she…"

The killer arched his eyebrows incredulous before briskly furrowing them in a thunderous scowl. "Stop rambling, idiot! What's wrong?"

"Eight"

Shamal's shuddering breath echoed loudly in his ear. "Sh-she's a Sky, Reborn!"

"Who is a Sky?"

His response was almost covered by Yuni's 'Seven'.

"I-Iris," he gulped. "Iris is a Sky!"

The not-child blinked rapidly. He couldn't understand what the other was saying, for the first time in his life, his brilliant brain wasn't computing. "…Iris is a Sky?" He repeated slowly and uncomprehending.

"Six seconds."

Finally realizing he was in a rush, the doctor got almost hysterical with his need to convey the most of the information in the shortest of time. "Yes, a very strong but inactive one. And Reborn?" At the distracted hum that he received as response, the Mist took a fortifying breath and hoped for a swift and painless death before saying, "I may have accidentallyandunknowinglyHarmonizedwiththekid."

"Five."

On the other side of the phone, Shamal cringed at the long, heavy pause. The words Reborn then spoke were heavily tight and carefully controlled. His fury was barely restrained and his twisting shadow showed it. "…You Harmonized with **my** **granddaughter**."

"Four."

A strangled yes was all the Arcobaleno needed to lash out. " **You** said she was a Mist!"

"I thought so too! At Genoa and a Naples she just disappeared! I hadn't thought to- I didn't realize…"

"Three."

"I swear Reborn it was an accident!" Shamal halfheartedly tried to defend himself, his voice pitching with nervousness. After all, it was hard not to be anxious when the bond with his new Sky was practically humming in the back of his mind and said Sky's grandfather was on the other side of the phone. "I didn't realize until it was too late! And with her injuries …"

"Two."

"Injuries?" The Arcobaleno hissed, trying to make sense to the doctor's chaotic babble, while a trickle of worry made its way into his black heart. A few wrinkles creased his forehead. "What injures, Shamal?!"

"She-"

" **One**."

And the shrunk hitman's world exploded in a cloud of pink smoke.

 **oOo**

Rolling a lollypop around his mouth with his tongue, Spanner watched anxiously the countdown on the display of his super computer. Years of planning and spying the Millefiore came down to this moment and, if he wanted to be truthful with himself, he didn't know what to feel. Not to say that the Italian engineer regretted betraying his old friend –could it really be considered betrayal when Byakuran became the monstrous and insane version of himself?- but he knew not to put all his hopes in the young versions of the Vongola Family.

They may have the rings for the Vongola Boxes, true, but they were young and _very_ inexperienced. They still lacked the ruthlessness and brutality to _be_ a Mafioso.

' _And I know I'm not the only one worried about that_ …' he thought troubled, running a hand through his blond locks. Still, for all his doubts about sixteen years old Tsuna Sawada, he trusted twenty-six years old Tsunayoshi Vongola and his plan.

"The man wouldn't have let for a bullet to be put in his brain for nothing… right?" He pondered out loud in the empty room. He masterfully ignored the well-known fact that the Japanese Vongola Boss _often_ declared his displeasure in being involved in Mafia business. That maybe he was just sick and tired of this whole thing and took the easy way out.

Groaning, he rolled nervously his lollipop in his mouth again and dried his sweaty hands on his coveralls. _'Giusto! Better not think about it!'_

However, no one could fault him if his brilliant brain, already pushed to the maximum efficiency by boxes of sugary goodies, was already working on thousands of different scenarios to save the salvageable. And calling all the support they may need.

A pink smoke cloud made its way into the room and interrupted his reasoning. A group of teenagers and a pint-sized killer materialized into the Vongola's lab.

The mechanic let out a sigh of relief and let himself fall against the back of his chair. "It was successful." He mumbled, his listless jade eyes sharpening for a second taking in the change in the boys' Flames. They were as pure as usual but now they had something _more_. Something _ancient_ and _powerful_ in them. The First Generation's Blessing. "Ten minutes have passed. I guess you are back in one piece."

Reborn nodded to his fellow Italian and then turned around, pinning his protégé with an unrelenting stare. "Tsuna. The real battle is about to begin."

"Yeah," murmured the sixteen years old clenching the Vongola Box tight in his hand. He and his friends worked hard to be prepared for this fight, ten long weeks of sacrifices, blood and tears to be deserving of his Family's legacy. He just hoped they were ready; losing wasn't an option anymore.

The solemn moment was cut off by lab's door being slammed open and a man made his way into the room. "It takes a very special kind of idiot to pull off what you did." He declared, frustrated, over his shoulder.

The black haired woman that followed him, colored in embarrassment. However, nothing could hide the amusement glinting in her eyes. "Do you have an idea the amount of self-control I had t- "

"Self-control?! What self-control!? You didn't have to call the members of the ICW useless old relics!"

"But they _are,_ Neville! And in my defense, I was left _unsupervised_."

At his incredulous snort, one promptly copied by a smirking Spanner, she pouted. Then she opened her mouth again, seemly more than ready to further defended herself from the accusation. However, whatever the woman reply had, it was cut off by a blur of a pale coloured sundress. "Cousin Iris! You are here!"

The enthusiastic hug of the young Giglio Nero Boss almost floored the woman.

"It's good to see you again, sweetheart!" Said back a laughing Iris, running a hand through the Italian girl's hair. A light frown made its way in her face, "I was so worried when I heard Byakuran got his hands on you…"

Yuni smiled widely, shaking her head in reassurance. "Tsuna and the others saved me!"

"Of course! The younger version of our Vongola Family!" Iris turned toward the just mentioned teenagers. The boys where all in different stages of weariness and perplexity. Despite her scrutiny of the group, it was another person that had her full attention. Soft, glittering, emerald eyes immersed in carefully controlled black ones. A smile lingered on her lips.

"Ciao nonno!"


	9. Chapter 9

**A Jaded Family**

 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling while Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to the genius of Akira Amano. I make no claim to ownership on either of them.

 **Summary:** She wasn't a hero or a savior, not anymore. If she had owed something to the world, she more than paid it back with blood and tears… so why did they take Teddy away from her? And why was everyone so interested in her grandfather?!

 **A/N:** My love to **MiraAdaraBlack** for helping me in planning this chapter! You are the best girl! Again, thank you to all the people who followed, favorited, reviewed or just read 'A Jaded Family'!

 **A/N:** In this chapter Harriet is referred as both Harry and Iris. Generally, if the person who is speaking is in a Mafia context, she will be referred in the last way – Iris can be considered her 'Mafia persona'.

 **A/N:** Before you start reading, here some translations you may find useful:

Piccolo Cielo – Little Sky.

Gentiluomo – Gentleman.

Magia –Magic.

Nonno – Grandfather.

Dannazione – Damn.

Peste – Brat.

 **oOo**

 **Chapter 9**

This house was creepy.

That was his first impression when Shamal entered number four Grimmauld Place. Iris had stressed the House's address a couple of times, articulating carefully her words for all she was whispering to his ear. Why exactly, he did not know, but in their short acquaintance he had learned not to ask too many questions to his strange, young Sky.

And she was _strange. S_ he obviously came from money, for he saw her handling gold and silver coins more than once, but had no idea when someone was trying to rob her blind. He casual clothes must have been inherited from a baby elephant -something he would have to change as soon as possible or the Sun Arcobaleno would kill _him_ \- but Teddy's blankets and onesies were of the softest cotton and luxurious silk. Iris never expected him to pull his weight in helping her returning home but she didn't bat an eyelid when he informed her he would go with them.

He didn't imagine the rush of gratitude from her Flames when he presented her their new, false passports. Yes, his piccolo Cielo was full of contradictions.

Entering the bathroom, the Doctor's lips quirked up in the barest of smiles. Her clique of friends was even stranger. The two males, George and Neville, were both dressed in the same leather outfit Iris wore in their first meeting and covered from head to toe with red robes despite being already August. The girl, Luna, had been even more bizarre wearing radish as earrings and bottle cups as necklaces. He was sure there had been fathers and beads weaved in her hair. The only one who hadn't looked at _him_ like an alien in that Airport was Andromeda, Teddy's disfigured grandmother, and even then, her Polka dotted dress had been out of fashion for more than three decades.

He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, remembering how in awe the Brits had been with him. Or, to be precise, the things he had taken with him. ' _How doesn't know how to use a cell phone?!_ ' he thought, still incredulous as his socks and pants soon followed its companions, landing in a messy bundle on the marble sink.

He let the hot water run in the claw-foot tub, looking suspicious around the room. All the wonder disappeared when they discovered he was there to stay. His Mist Flames were attacked by two different ones, showing that both Neville and George where Active and well on their way to Harmonize with his Sky. If they were strong enough to become respectively Rain Guardian and Storm Guardian only time would tell. Andromeda had simply shot him a reproaching glare over Teddy's head, one who told him that Iris had blabbed to the older woman about his favorite pastime and she would be keeping an eye on him.

' _Concerning, Dreamy Girl_ ,' he thought, referring to the young Lovegood. " _Her Flames showed a great deal of damage, so much that her own illusion were deceiving her. Maybe she will never have a true Sky but at least Iris' Fames are doing their best to anchor the quirky Mist to reality."_

Anyway, back to the house.

On the surface, it was a good upper-class townhouse, with a little garden and all of that. It was even newly decorated with light theme colors and tasteful if old-fashioned furniture.

Andromeda was obviously proud of her work. She confessed to a surprised Iris that she renovated it during the girl's absence, in the vain hope that doing something productive would distract her from joining the teenager in her rescue mission.

But he was sure it _hated_ him. He couldn't manage to go around without getting lost despite it being only three floors –his record was three hours- and his dirty clothes disappeared and then reappeared perfectly clean and folded out of nowhere. His electronics seemed to refuse to work and couldn't seem to manage to work the kitchen. But the worst, the absolute worst was the infinite line of portraits on the walls whose eyes seemed to follow him around the room.

It was maddening!

He jumped when a cold air flow blew his way, making the fine hair on his arms stand up. The Mist turned around and saw that both the door and the window were closed. His clothes were gone again. He dived into the tub.

"Iris come back soon!"

In the dark corner, a pair of bulbous eyes glinted, amused.

 **oOo**

In that exact moment, Shamal's Sky was a bit busy at being scolded like the troublesome teenager that she was by an overly stressed Minister of Magic.

"-and you should have the presence of mind not to waltz into the Ministry after disappearing for almost three months!"

"I didn't think it would cause so much chaos…" She muttered, rubbing awkwardly her neck. Absentmindedly, she noted that her curls now brushed her shoulders. She would have to cut it soon.

His answering glare was something fierce. "That's the problem! I need you to put at work those few remaining brain cells!"

"Ehi!" she exclaimed, vaguely offended. She wasn't Hermione but she did have a brain. And when it was needed, she used it quite often too, thank you very much!

Shacklebolt seemed to collapse into himself. He suddenly seemed even more overworked and stressed than when she last saw him. His dark skin tone was paler than ever. "Kings, is everything ok?"

He wavered her off, letting out a soul-weary sigh. and she bit her bottom lip in guilt. She really didn't think that she would attract such a horde of paparazzi by floo-ing into the Atrium. Her newfound anonymity in Italy had really spoiled her. She opened her mouth trying to say something when the ex-Auror decided to change the conversation. "Neville told me you came back with company. A _male_ company." He stressed with a knowing smirk.

Harry pinned him with a flat look. "Neville has to learn to keep his damn mouth shut. But yes, his name is Shamal and no," she interrupted him. "he is not my boyfriend. Now he is a Grimmauld Place."

"You let a muggle into your house.."

"I had to take him somewhere!" She explained, crossing her arms in exasperation. How could she explain him the uncomfortable, soul-searing feeling that she experienced at the idea of leaving the Italian doctor behind? "Don't worry, I warned Andromeda beforehand. Everything magical has been stored away," then she added, "Kreature is keeping an eye on him."

"Let me rectify. You left a muggle with a Black house elf in a Black household." He exclaimed, staring at her incredibly.

Blushing, she felt the improvise need to justify herself, "Kreature isn't so bad…"

His eyebrows rose in pity and her stomach closed at the foreboding feeling. Maybe she should postpone her next visit to Teddy and Andromeda in St. Mungo. The townhouse finally resembled a home, she would hate to see it destroyed before she even lived into it.

"Anyway, I have a good news for you," he chuckled, dusting off his bright purple robes from imaginary creases."Congratulation Lady Potter and let me be the first to welcome you in our Supreme Courthouse!"

"…What?"

He bared his teeth in what should have been a comforting grin. Harry could only feel his sadistic pleasure. "With the arrests, the Wizengamot is sorely empty. All the Heirs who came of age have been asked to reclaim their inheritance and you, my dear," he said weaving at her up and down with his hand," have two Seats!"

"You are joking right?"

His dark eyes glittered in satisfaction. "You are going to look _so_ well in plum colored robes!"

Ignoring how her face fell in dread, he opened the desk drawer, pulled out a dusty, old book and promptly smacked it her in the face. Blinking unseeingly, she grip on her new nemesis tightened so much that her knuckle whitened. She didn't even felt when the Minister made her rise up from her chair and directed her to the exit. "Now, if you please, I have to talk to a very pissed off German Chancellor about a burning forest!" He stated, shoving her unceremoniously out of his office.

Harry grimaced at the door slammed behind her and looked at the massive tome in her hands. The Minister seat must have drained Kingsley of any sense of humor the hardened ex-Auror may have before. The one he had now wasn't funny at all.

' _Me? A Lady?!_ ' She snorted ungainly in her mind, ruffling even more her already messy hair, and cursing indelicately when her fingers caught a knot. "Oh yes, I'm the bloody incarnation of the feminine grace and daintiness!" She grumbled, stomping one booted foot in righteous outrage. She was a fighter, a soldier! She wasn't a pampered little doll, born with a silver spoon in her mouth! Her father's family may have come from money but sure as hell the Dursley didn't grow her as Noble Lady. What did she know of Hereditary Seats and Avalonian Laws?!

' _Traitor_!' She thought while making a face at the Minister of Magic's door office. ' _You just love to see me go nuts!'_

However, her little temper tantrum wasn't as private as she hoped it to be because a delicate silvery laugh trilled in the hallway and smashed in her ears with the strength of a full speed truck.

"My, my! The reporters downstairs would give the wand arm to take a photo of the Golden Girl behaving like a naughty child!"

The Potter heiress froze and shut her eyes tight, wishing for the ground to open up and swallow her up whole. Knowing full well that Life hated her too much to just give her that mercy, with cheeks stained apple red in embarrassment, Harry gathered what remained of her pride and turned around meeting the laughing eyes of the girl who witnessed her fall from grace.

Even before her physical features, as sad as it may seem, it was her Blood Status that stuck out like a sore thumb. After all her years living in the Wizarding World, it was easy to see that the witch in front of her was a Purebood.

' _And a rich one, moreover!_ ' Harry's mind supplied while her eyes jumped from the tailored acromantula silk to the tasteful jewelry. With her delicate traits, deep blue eyes and glossy blond hair Harry was sure she was the envy of a lot of teenager witches out there.

Indeed, with her inky hair and Auror combat gear, the two couldn't be more different from each other. Still, there was something the witches had in common. The sharpness of their gazes.

"Do I know you?" she said lightly, right wrist ready to snap her wand in her hand. She may have done stupid things when she was younger – and Merlin! Some of those were really cringe-worthy now that she thought about it!- but she wasn't totally stupid. Just because she was at the Ministry, it didn't mean she could relax.

"I'm Astoria Greengrass," the blond witch answered, tone even colder than her eyes.

Harry didn't take long to understand who she was. Astoria Greengrass was the little sister of one of her Slytherin classmates, Daphne. A girl who she had rarely interacted with, not being part of Malfoy's clique or fan club. Like Zabini and Devis, Daphne Greengrass preferred to lay low and observe, taking advantage of the other disputes like the ultimate Snake she was. The Greengrass family, in general, was even more of a grey area, never siding with anyone. At least, on the surface anyway.

"I'm not here to fight," Greengrass went on, looking wearily at the Savior's wand hand. "I'm here to relay a request."

"From who?"

"Narcissa Malfoy."

Black colored eyebrows jumped up in surprise. She hadn't seen nor heard from any member of the Malfoy family since the Battle of Hogwarts. She had to admit it had left her wrong-footed, considering the woman's actions in the Forbidden Forest. "And what does Mrs Malfoy want from me?"

"For you to see her as soon as possible," the Slytherin witch replied, folding her arms over her light summer robes. An anxious gleam fleshed nigh too quickly in her blue eyes. Taking a breath, she fixed them in Harry's green one and glared decisively. That impassive mask fell back on her face and she intoned, "Today."

Harry pursed her lips at the younger girl tone but she let go in favor of what it was said. She had a pretty good idea about what the Pureblood woman wanted from her and she had already taken a decision about it. Nonetheless, it wouldn't hurt to hear what the noblewoman had to say. ' _However_ …' she pondered thoughtfully. "What does it have to do with you?"

Astoria's blue eyes burned with purple protective intent for a second. "Draco is my fiancée."

At this, Harry smiled lightly, signaling the other girl to lead the way. Yes, that was a good reason for Greengrass to get involved in the shit-storm that was the Malfoy family. Especially in the current climate. Astoria seemed to be loyal and faithful; she could get along with a girl like that.

' _I just never thought I would visit Azkaban so soon…'_

 **oOo**

The Wizarding Prison was as dark as imposing as she imagined, something even more accentuated by the stormy weather and the turbulent North Sea crashing against the sheer cliff.

She threw a look to her escorts. Astoria Greengrass was as impassible as ever, heedless of the freezing water soaking her robes while their guide, Ernest McMillan's face was pasty. If she didn't know better, she would say the ex-Hufflepuff seemed affected by a good dose of sea sickness but she had clearly seen him wearing that expression well before boarding the ship. She supposed she would be like that too if her next shift was twelve hours guarding Azkaban.

At the dock, a couple of other two dark red coat greeted them, the black band on their arm identifying them as her fellows DA. Lee Jordan smiled brightly, thumping Ernie's shoulder with a knowing smirk and hugging her tight. Dean Thomas, for his part, wasn't as welcoming. The war had changed her cheerful classmate in an unusually hard man. Luna confided her it was the result of Lavender's brutal death; apparently, the two Gryffindor became really close during their last year of Hogwarts and the murder of the bubbly witch.

" _You_ stay here," he said curtly at the Slytherin offloading after her. And if he added a disgusted glare too, no one was brave enough to reprimand him. Harry knew from experience some things need time to heal and Astoria had thicker skin than that.

Surpassing the front door and the guard station, the last Potter made herself ignore how her steps resounding heavily on the floor. The prison was even gloomier inside, with shades that ranged from steel grey to muddy brown. On top of that, the ignis fatuus on the torches cast their eerie blue glow on the stone walls.

"I know. It takes time to get used to," Lee confided her, leading her around the narrow hallways and the windy stairs. When she was sure they were lost, Lee stopped at an inconspicuous door. The plate on the wall was marked with the number 3. "She is already waiting for you inside. Angelina is her ward today."

Opening the door, Harry's eyes found Narcissa Malfoy easily; the striped black and white prison uniform was a stark contrast to the tailored robes the woman preferred. Finding herself strangely wrong-footed, she took her time to greet the ex-Chaser of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Miss Potter, please take a seat," Narcissa said from her seat at the table and motioning to her to do the same with a wave of the hand. The woman's wrists were painted with restraining runes- just as were the corners of her eyes- which prevented her from using any form of wandless magic and Occlumency. Harry suspected that in the middle of her back there was an anti-Animagus rune; the DMLE learned something from its only escapee. Sighing, she sprawled gracelessly on the opposite chair.

"Greengrass stressed it was a matter of urgency."

Narcissa inclined her head in acknowledgment, looking indifferent at the girl's lack of good manners. "I would offer you some refreshment but I'm afraid the prison's cafeteria doesn't offer much of a choice."

However, _this_ seemed to bother the Savior.

"I'm sure Azkaban is much more accommodating than when my godfather was an inmate," she replayed dryly looking at her clean prison jumpsuit and clear eyes. Now that the Dementors were purged from the island, the prisoners were no longer tortured to insanity, becoming a husk of their former selves. Before, Azkaban had been…

' _Inhuman_ ,' her mind supplied helpfully. Something she couldn't condone anymore. Not after Sirius. Not after seeing him dirty, gaunt and more than half crazy. It had been hard, people were less than sympathetic with Death Eaters but Harry had dug her heels on that point. If Azkaban was the only sad place in England were such highly trained individuals could be contained safely then, for Merlin's beard, it would be made a sad _livable_ place. And now it was.

Taking a breath, she tried to calm her boiling temper and said, "So, why am I here?"

"In a month time, the trials against the suspected Death Eaters will start. Including the one against my family."

"I suppose so. You all were arrested with the accuse of being in league with a terroristic regime after all. Among the other things…"

"Then, Miss Potter, I'm sure you can imagine why I called you here."

The young witch laced her hands on the steel table. "You want me to talk on your behalf."

Harry didn't even need to use the corner of her eye to know that Angelina was bristling in outrage at the Pureblood's boldness. She sent her a reassuring smile before turning toward the other woman. "No," she stated, firm.

A blond eyebrow rose in surprise, "No?"

"No."

"I'm afraid I'll have to remind you that you owe me quite a lot, Miss Potter."

At this, Angelina, who had been silent till that moment, jumped out from the corner she stationed herself and pointed her wand menacingly at the older witch. "You _dare_ to threaten her?!" She hissed, so furious that her hand shook with repressed energy. Her wand's tip even gave off little sparks.

However, the inmate just shrugged delicately, unfazed. Her silver eyes looked chillingly at the warden. "I'm just being honest."

Whatever curse Johnson had on the tip of her tongue was halted by the cold voice of the Woman-who-Conquered. "Angelina leave us, please. I would like to speak with Mrs Malfoy alone."

The prison guard wavered, clearly torn apart between the need to do her job and obeying her de-facto leader. Harry placed a hand on the ex-Chaser's shoulder and smiled at her. "Just for a couple of minutes," reassured lightly. "Nothing will happen."

After a couple of seconds, the older Gryffindor nodded wearily. "I'll be just outside if you need me," she declared, pocketing her wand back in its holster before closing the door behind her.

Mrs Malfoy hummed impressed, "Their loyalty to you is without bounds…"

Having been touched on a raw nerve she would rather ignore for the foreseeable future, Harry turned back to the blond woman. Her face was no longer as warm and her words were even colder. "Let me be perfectly clear with you, Mrs Malfoy. Your husband disgusts me; he murdered, he tortured and terrorized innocent people for his racist and bigoted beliefs…"

"Everyone is entitled of their own ideas!"

But the girl kept going on like she didn't hear her, "…and frankly speaking I don't have a high opinion of you either, madam. You lied, covered and facilitated his actions and those of his psychotic comrades. Hundreds of people are dead or have their lives destroyed because of their actions." Her eyes burned her with its emerald intensity, "And it's your fault too."

The Malfoy matriarch faltered for a moment. "Lucius is my husband… and Bella was m-"

"Don't!" Shouted Harry, slamming her hand against the table. Her next words came out of gritted teeth."Don't. Nominate. Bellatrix. Lestrange. In. My. Presence!"

There was a couple of knocks at the door; still, neither witch broke their stand-off to answer an obviously worried Angelina- both too stubborn in their convictions.

"The Dark Lord would have killed us if we ever dared to disobey…" Narcissa admitted in a whisper running a frustrated hand through her hair in a rare show of discomfort.

The young Potter copied her motion with even more frustration."You started to think of disobeying him only after you fell out of favor…"

"What do you want me to say? That I was wrong? Very well!" The blonde's tone was colored with bitterness. She opened her hands in a resigned gesture. "Lucius was wrong. _I_ was wrong. But everything I did, I did it to protect my family, to protect my _son_!"

Harry sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. Why Shacklebolt believed she could thrive in that shark-infested tank that was the Wizengamot she no idea. Power talk really wasn't her thing. She looked at the magical hourglass and realized the time for her visit had miraculously ended, she got up and straightened her robes. "And that is the only reason why you are charged with aiding and abetting instead of accessory to murder, Mrs Malfoy," She went around the table heading toward the door. "Even threatening me with my Life Debt won't change that."

Hearing the last charge, the one all the marked Death Eaters were prosecuted with, the graceful lady loosen all her poise. She clamped on the girl's wrist, the desperation in her heart making her grip impossibly tight. "You are the Girl-who-Lived! The Savior! The Woman-who-Conquered' word carries a lot of weight!" Harry blinked slowly, she had never imagined seeing Narcissa Malfoy so ruffled. "You don't care about me or Lucius, I can understand that, I can accept that but _Draco_! You have to save _him_! You have to! He just tried to survive! He is as much as a victim as anyone else!"

Against her wishes, her green eyes clouded and she grimaced at the memory of a sixteen years old Draco in the lavatory, pale and disheartened, crying his heart out because of the impossible mission Voldemort assigned him using his parents' life as leverage. It really had been a situation without a way out. Still…

Harry shook her head. "I could testimony in his favor but even then, I can't assure the grand jury will absolve him... More importantly, what I get out of it?"

Narcissa smiled bitterly. For all she heard Potter was the ultimate Gryffindor, she sure was showing a great deal of Slytherin in her. Maybe House Black will survive under her. "Your Life Debt towards me… I'll erase it if you save my son."

.

.

.

Arriving at the dock, Astoria looked at her with unfathomable eyes. Despite her impeccable figure, it was easy to see the waiting rattled her. "Well?"

Jumping on the boat, Harry send one last look at the dreary prison, feeling drained even without the presence of the Dementors. "Draco Malfoy is now under my protection," Harry murmured.

She didn't miss the flesh of relief in the other's eyes and the light smile that curled her pale lips. Draco was lucky, the two Pureblood really loved him. Even if now he was stranded with her. But well, he was a Black- Sirius' cousin, _her_ cousin- and she would take her of him. If she had every intention to talk in his favor even before this visit, no one needed to know. But at least now, the Life Debt was no more.

' _That kind of things in Narcissa's hands were dangerous after all…'_ She ruffled her messy hair one more time and she slouched tiredly in her seat. She really wasn't one for politics.

 **oOo**

Ciao nonno.

He never thought two mere words would have such a power over him. But they did. Completely. Reborn remembered felling the air rush out of his chest with a hiss, his brain halt, the silence born by the impossibility of the situation. And while a minor part of him rejoiced that not all his lessons had been wasted with his dead-brain of students – and manage to teach basic Italian to Dame-Tsuna and Yamamoto was something award worthy!- another bigger part of him was trying to catch up with what he was seeing.

Not something that happened often.

Renato Sinclair was a certified genius -maybe he did not have the Verde kind of geniality but his eidetic memory and analytical thinking was one of the best in the Mafia.

' _So how come it just takes a pair of green eyes to make you so wrong-footed?'_ Purred an amused voice in his mind. She was all soft curves and lithe body this granddaughter of his and for all that was good in the world, he could imagine that something so dainty could come from a man like him.

' _Her hair?'_ He thought masochistically fascinated, staring pointedly at her face. _'Maybe in the curls or the color… perhaps the eye shape or-'_

"This situation is quite unusual," At Iris' comment, he stopped abruptly, realizing what he was trying to do. At least the other had the presence of mind to retire in their own room after dinner and wouldn't see his lack of control. Unacceptable. She just smiled -with the same cupid bow as his own!- and he swallowed dryly. How did he come to _this_?

"Unnerving, it's more like it." He mentally grimaced at his flat tone in his childish voice. Dame-Tsuna certainly thought so considering the girly screech he gave out.

His Guardians had been different. Yamamoto had taken everything in stride, his typical Rain nonchalance hiding his sharp, wary gaze. The Right Hand's reaction had been expected, downright suspicious and hostile against the Black Family than all the other kids. The idea of a Famiglia he never heard about suddenly helping them was brushing his metaphorical fur in all the wrong ways.

' _More so being an_ unallied _one_ ,' thought the Sun Arcobaleno. And dannazione, if he wasn't relieved at the thought that Iris had managed to stay out of Iemitsu and the other Famiglie's claws long enough to establish herself.

Seeing him lost in his thought, Iris could help but mentally sigh. He was right, this situation was unnerving. Not only their timelines were separated by ten years but her nonno still hadn't met her past self yet. Her workaholic, stubborn, distrustful past self. She played with her necklace in frustration, remembering at all the problems she gave him at the beginning of their relationship. She really had been a brat.

' _But you had been_ hispeste _,'_ her mind whispered. ' _He certainly called you that enough times_.'

She missed him, she missed him a lot. They had met only five years prior, during one of the Vongola Gala, where she and her Family had been Tsunayoshi's guests of honor; a political move to show the Vongola support to the newly established neutral mafia Famiglia. It had been hurt, in the beginning, with him refusing to meet her, only talking through untraceable phone calls and encrypted letters. With training regiments and firearms drills mailed from the all sort of places with no return address.

' _Confirmations that she wasn't strong enough to be acknowledged as his.'_

Only Shamal reminders about who she was, who _Reborn_ was stopped her to label her grandfather as another disappointing relative. And when they finally met she had been all that he needed and he had been all that she hoped, even if in a pint-sized package.

It had destroyed her when he was killed, when his bright Flame disappeared from her world, and only the presence of Guardians and the need to protect of her Family stopped her from cursing that Merlin-damned albino to hell and back.

Looking at the younger version of her deceased grandfather, something softened in her. Searching in her jacket's inner pocket, she smirked knowingly as his dark eyes focused and sharpened back to her. She extracted slowly her hand and pushed a wrinkled photograph towards him, happy that she had the foresight in keeping a muggle version of one of her greatest treasure with her always.

"These are my parents – James and Lily," whispered softly the younger Sinclair.

Reborn's gaze zeroed to the picture, taking in the young couple dancing under a shower of yellow and orange leaves. Both in their twenties and very much in love with each other. He absorbed the man's curly dark hair and the woman's shining green eyes, both inherited by their daughter. It was a beautiful couple, really. Still…

His chubby hands trembled. "Don't you have a more recent one?"

"This is the most recent I have."

His lips tightened and his face became even more inscrutable. Burning golden orbs pinned sad green ones. "How did they die?"

"Mum and dad were active members against a terrorist who terrorized the United Kingdom during the Seventies. Despite being in a safe house, they were betrayed and found out. He murdered them when I was fifteen months…"

She peered from under her eyelashes to try to understand what he was thinking. The killer was like a blank canvas. Uncertain, she kept talking. "After their death, I was entrusted to my maternal aunt but we didn't get along. I never really knew my parents till I went to school… some of their friends gave me some photos and talked about them. Dad played in one of the school teams while mum was one of the best stud-"

" **Who**?" He interrupted her, tone dark and murderous. Behind him, his shadow enlarged and shrunk frenetically. She could feel his Sun Flames surging furiously, trying to find an outlet for the hitman's rage.

Iris didn't need for him to specify. It was the same horrible question she asked Hagrid all those years ago. "His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle."

He stopped even to breath.

"I killed him eleven years ago."

He unfroze and his Flames retracted- just barely. With a trembling hand, he lowered the fedora over his ashen face as he tried to hide her his tumultuous emotions.

She opened her mouth to say something else, wanting to pacify his Sun Flames with her own Sky like she did in the past. However, a trill ringed in her mind. Iris sighed deeply at the activation of her ward line- Yuni had just woken up feeling very distressed and was incapable of fell asleep again.

She left him like that, head bowed over his folded hands. She ignored the little drop that splashed against the parquet. He wouldn't accept comfort from her, not when he didn't know her enough, trust her enough. Everything else he needed to know would be taken care of by the Harry of his time. The magic, the war, the nightmares, the deaths… It was an important milestone for them. For her and her nonno it had been.

He ran a chubby, little finger on the photograph. He closed his eyes in grieve.

His child was gone. He had lost his son.

 _James Sinclair_.

 **oOo**

Iris hummed lightly keeping a firm grip on the two cup of hot chocolate in her hands. Despite being just mid-September, a month still quite warm in Italy and definitely not one for hot drinks, some discussions were best to be held with plenty of comfort food. Hence, the creamy, dark chocolate.

However, she couldn't exactly say she was surprised when a hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed her arm, forcefully dragging her away from the dark hall and slamming her hard against a wall. The sound of a door slamming echoed in her ears while her breath was cut off by a heavy arm against her upper mid-section. Irritated, her green eyes snapped up to met distrustful brown one- the flecks of both pairs started to glow bright orange.

"I never took you to be so rough-necked with a lady. You know, having been trained by a _gentiluomo_ and all of that..." Hummed the woman, trying to loosen his grip on her. "You ruined my drinks."

"And I never imagined you to be one who goes around unharmed," whispered him, running the tips of his free hand down her right arm and feeling it without her wand holster. His gaze intensified, becoming hard as marble and he mocked back. "You know, having been trained by the same _gentiluomo_."

In the next second, something hard pushed against his stomach and a telltale sound clicked in his ears. In her left hand was a small handgun and the angle of her lips curled in an ironic smirk.

He fleshed a small smile, amused, and let her go and her revolver vanished with a flourish of her wrist. Both their eyes turned their original color.

"One day, you'll have to tell me where exactly you hide them…" he muttered helplessly, scanning the light t-shirt and shorts she chose as pajamas for the night.

The young British just chipped mischievous. "Magia!"

Dino snorted. Magic was the answer for everything for Iris and her friends. Crossing his arms in front of him and became serious. "I never thought you would come to help."

The woman shrugged, nonchalant. "I didn't know you would be here too. When did you arrived?"

He Italian Boss looked at her pointedly, ignoring her diversion. His expression was highly unamused.

Feeling very uncomfortable, after a couple of seconds Iris admitted, "I almost didn't..."

"But you came."

Iris pursed her lips at his insistent tone, irritancy flashed in her eyes. Her answer came out dry and chafed. "Apparently, I seem to have a people saving thing. I was never a fan of letting the world to be conquered by megalomaniac psycho." She copied him and crossed her arms under her bosom, a mulish expression distorting her fine features. Being the link between the higher-ups of the Mafia and the Wizarding World was such a _pain_ sometimes. "I persuaded the ICW not to send their army; they won't interfere and will let the Vongola Family handle Byakuran if it won't involve Wizarding population. My people will take care of it. Elevate wards around the major battlefield and evacuate the civilians."

He looked at her frustrated. "We could have used some more fighters.."

She moistened her lips, looking painfully uncomfortable. "The Wand Alliance Army won't differentiate between the Vongola and Millefiore's combatants. They had been created to defend the European magical enclaves after our version of Hitler tried to conquer the world. They will just see dangerous muggles and will attack them with lethal force… without distinction."

Seeing his annoyed face, she grasped his hand and went on saying, "The enclaves may not fight but this doesn't mean we can't provide relief support of some kind. Someone has to take care of all the Vongola's not-fighting members if the kids fail again. They don't deserve to pay for your naivety."

Taking in the cross undertone of her voice, the blond man frowned, running a frustrated hand through his blond locks. "You are still angry after all this time…"

His impatient attitude destroyed every good intention she had of consoling him and inflamed her temper. A year and half of festering rage surged forward as a torrent. Just because she came back it didn't mean she forgot _why_ exactly she left!

"Of course I'm still angry!" she hissed, emerald eyes burning as two twin dawns. "I told him, I _told_ him thousands of times that destroying the Vongola Rings was an error but did he listen to me?! No, of course not! It's not like I am used in dealing with assholes! Tsunayoshi _had_ to be all noble and accommodating! That bloody _idiot_!"

At this, the male Sky's expression hardened too. "He destroyed them to keep the peace! The other Famiglie were pressuring him!"

"And look how it ended!" She shouted pointing a dainty finger to his chest, pocking at him hard. "We are at war anyway and we are on the losing side too! And don't let me get started with his _great_ idea!"

"…Not this again!" He sighed, looking desperate at the ceiling for some patience. Or something hard to smash against her head. It would have been funny if it were any other moment. Dino wasn't impulsive or even temperamental. That was her. The other Sky was more one to plan and panic. Something she was sure he had been doing since the death of the Vongola Boss. Staring at the dark bags under his eyes, she wondered when was last time he slept. However, at the moment, she was too furious to take pity on him. "Who the hell summon the much younger version of himself and their own Guardians to fight against someone who he couldn't defeat in the first place?!"

He glowered at her and at her dry sarcasm. "They may be young but now they have the power to call the Vongola Boxes again and the First Generation's powers to back them up!"

Iris looked at him, incredulous, really hoping Dino was joking. Sadly it wasn't so. The Italian Mafia Boss was very serious and very hopeful. Her more rational, pragmatic side, the one developed by thousand of fights in and out the battlefield, sneered. It almost hurt to look at his naivety. More so, because he was supposed to be a Mafia Boss. The appearance of the teenagers got him out of focus and she hated to be the one to remind him of the harsh reality. "They may be more powerful than their teenager versions of this timeline," she started slowly, "but it still doesn't change the fact that Byakuran will kill them in a blink when he decides not to fuck with them anymore!"

Dino seemed almost took offense of her words. "I seem to remember another kid fighting against an opponent much stronger than she was and she won the war. And she had just another couple of teenagers to relay on too!"

Her green eyes glittered, this time with unleashed tears of frustration instead of the power of her own very soul. She hated this situation, she hated what they were doing and most of all she hated what they were going to do to the teenagers. "Yes and you should know against child-soldiers I am! I was one of them and I'm sure you also remember how I was when we met!"

He sighed sadly and his sharp gaze softened. He understood what she was feeling, he too didn't like the idea of destroying what innocence the Tenth Generation still have. Tsuna and his Guardians had the very real possibility to become murderers or be killed trying to off one of the strongest Flame Active of the Mafia World. No one like what they were doing but at this point, they didn't have other choices. Byakuran didn't give them one. They just have to have faith and believe. "We won't let it get to that point," he muttered putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing lightly. "Tsuna can do it, Iris."

His belief resounded strongly in his words and, for a moment, the witch decided to trust him too. ' _Why my life never goes as it was fucking planned?!_ _'_ she thought, rubbing her temples. Stubborn Italians! That's why she liked to stay in England, at least _there_ people listened to her!

Deciding to let go of their bickering for the moment, Iris took the time to check out the Italian man. Not only he grew out his hooligan style- that haircut sure suited him very, _very_ well with his finely chiseled cheekbones and tan skin- but he was more comfortable in his skin than she recalled. _'Maybe far too much,'_ she mused. She got closer to him and smiled brightly.

Dino, for his part, frozen up in seeing the cheeky glint sparkling in her eyes. One which had usually preceded infinite amount of pain via said woman's grandfather in his childhood.

"You got bolder in these five years, Don Cavallone," she hummed pinning him with her emerald gaze and curling around her finger one of his longer golden locks. She pulled it lightly, "There was a time when you wouldn't dare to touch me in fear of my nonno's ire, and now look at you! Pulling me in a remote room and slamming me against a wall. I wonder what he would say… How _scandalous_!" She practically _purred_ in his ear.

The man jumped up in fright and somehow, managed to stumble against his own feet. He hit the ground with a sonorous thud.

"W-what?!" He gasped while his face grew redder and redder. At her risen eyebrow, his stuttering worsened. "I d-didn't… we, w-we didn't… I'm not!"

"Reborn always _knows_ , Cavallone!" Her red lips smirked shamelessly, enjoying the way his face paled and assumed a green tint around the edges. And with a wink and a good hair flip, she opened the door and left the poor man a sputtering mess on the floor. What could she say? Mischief really was in her genes.

However, she didn't expect was to hear his voice again. Most of all, she didn't expect the serious hue it carried.

"Did you ever forgive him? For dying?"

She knitted her brow. Involuntary, her hand jumped at the silver chain around her neck, gripping the well-hidden pendant under her shirt. "Who are you referring to? Tsunayoshi or Reborn?"

"Either?" behind her, he shrugged helplessly. "Both?"

"No."

 **oOo**

Knocking lightly, Iris was greeted by the tear-stained face of the Giglio Nero Boss. Something she hadn't seen since Skull's funeral. She went with the intention to give support to her grandfather -who had cared for his Lackey in his own sadistic way and was silently raging for his powerlessness- and had ended up caring for a young Sky who blamed herself for the death of the Cloud Arcobaleno.

It had been hard to look at Yuni and not see herself in the wise and desolate child. One that now had literally the weight of the world on her shoulders.

She could only hug her tight.

"Everything ok, sweetheart?" Iris whispered softly, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to will some warmth back into the girl. She should have made those hot chocolates again!

The girl shook her head, shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs. Her nightmare kept replaying in her head in again and again. That infinite sea overlooked by a rainbow- for it to just disappear and become five discolored pacifiers. And then Byakuran taunting and hunting her till the end of the Earth. Her protectors -Tsuna and his Guardians- dead at her feet…

She knew what she had to do. The Sight had showed her the possible outcomes of the battle, but just one would ensure Byakuran would lose.

She felt the cold sheets under her fingertips and the slightly damp pillow under her cheek, realizing that her honorary cousin had walked her back to the bed and even tucked her in. She could barely manage to feel embarrassed. She scooted on the side and looked pleading for some comfort. Reluctantly, Iris laid down beside her, drawing the girl into her arms and wiping the young Donna's face with her fingers. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Yuni could only mutter a no, nuzzling her face at her throat and griping her shirt with her small hands. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Yuni took a breath and steeled her resolve. "During the war, were you afraid? Of dying?"

The Sinclair jumped up and supported her weight on an arm to take a better look at her little cousin. Yuni was staring immobile at the ceiling. She felt her heart tighten with grief, cursing the Gift of Sight for tormenting a thirteen years old girl like that. She knew intimately that expression of desolate acceptance, she herself had worn it herself before sacrificing her life to Riddle.

"No…" whispered the Girl-who lived, her words full of sorrow. It didn't stop her from brushing the girl's fringe back."After all, to a well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

Thinking at the dead pacifiers, Yuni really hoped so.


End file.
